


Harry Potter and the Bucket List

by Darkpetal16



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Asexual Character, Dementors, Female Harry Potter, Friendship, Humor, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Pansexual Character, Parody, Romance, Stealing, Thief, Unicorns, Vampires, Werewolf, Werewolves, supportive, worgens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 145,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkpetal16/pseuds/Darkpetal16
Summary: Being reincarnated as Harry Potter's fraternal twin sister really puts a new meaning behind "death is but the next great adventure."Grey!OC. Updates every Thursday.
Comments: 117
Kudos: 296
Collections: Into another world, Old Pineapple's Favs, The Knowing





	1. Pre-School 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta: Cloudy**
> 
> **Cover:** Artwork done by Candy Cantrona.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. This was written purely for fun.
> 
>  **Warning:** Morally dark / gray OC (will lie, steal, kill, etc). Story will include standard HP warnings.
> 
>  **Update schedule** **:** I'll post a chapter once a week after completing a part (example I have finished the "pre-school" part therefore I will post a chapter once a week. I will take a break while I finish writing out "year one / book one" then post once a week again. Repeat until final year.
> 
>  **Genre:** Parody, satire, dark comedy, adventure, family, friendship, fwuff
> 
>  **Parts complete:** pre-year, year 1, year 2, year 3, year 4
> 
>  **This story is mildly AU.** For the most part I use the world built from canon, but I've made some minor changes such as the Potters being under the Fidelius charm longer than a week.
> 
>  **We do not support Cursed Child as canon in this house.** If you want those reasons, just google "fandom thoughts on Cursed Child."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

For the longest time, all I felt was the pain. There was no singular thought, no coherent feeling. Only pain. I felt it all throughout my body, and yet I felt like I had no body. I was flattened; spread out and steamrolled over repeatedly. The pain was unlike any I had ever experienced, and when I was finally given relief, all I wanted to do was sob gratefully.

The relief, unfortunately, was painfully brief.

And then the pain started again, but this time it was focused on my head. The worst possible migraine in history, I believed. Nothing—absolutely _nothing_ —could be compared to that pain.

My body felt loose, wobbly, and utterly helpless. I had little to no motor control, and I could do nothing but cry and cry. At times, I felt a rush of cold and the pain vanished instantly, but it only lasted for a minute, or two.

And then, one day, the pain abruptly stopped.

I woke up.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

My eyes stared at the painted ceiling of the night sky. Stars twinkled, and I saw a comet shoot across the sky. There was a single waning moon to the far right corner, and when I turned my head to look at it, I realized that I was surrounded by wooden bars on all sides of me. Confusion entered my mind, as I struggled to understand why I would be in a cage without a ceiling.

After another moment of staring at the bars, I began to look around and I realized how proportionately large all the furniture was around me.

I was inside a child's room.

A... a baby's room.

Fear, with more bewilderment, shot through me and adrenaline forced my body into action. I flailed around, unable to find the strength to do more than roll a little to the left and right. I looked down in horror at my tiny, chubby hands that I knew were not mine. The hands before me were pale and pink, and most certainly too tiny to belong to any adult. My arms were covered in fat, and stubby. I was wearing some kind of footie pajamas.

Impossible.

 _Impossible_.

I tried to think back on my previous actions. I tried, desperately, to remember past the pain.

My head throbbed sharply for a second, causing my brow to furrow as I winced.

Then I remembered.

_I died._

I died. I know I did. There was no possible way for me to have survived what had happened. I was in my third year of medical school, I knew it was impossible for me to have survived. It was perfect. It was a perfect death. I knew I died. I _had_ to have died.

Then pain.

So how was I here?

I died—but now I'm alive?

I was—

I mean.

I was _reborn_?

How?

Why?

I was no one special. I was a groomed child who did everything right. I wasn't mean to anyone. I had no grudges. I went to prep school, boarding school, absolutely everything my high-powered lawyer mother had me do. After graduating from high school with many university classes under my belt, I tested in early to medical school and did everything expected of me. I studied. I pulled all-nighters. I worked long shifts at a chance for more experience. I practiced my sutures religiously.

I did everything right, so why do I have to go through it all again?

I didn't want that. That would be a special kind of hell if I had to do it all again.

Wasn't death supposed to be the end?

_(Never)_

"Rosie?"

My gaze turned to the front door of the room as the door slowly creaked open. A woman entered with startlingly bright green eyes and a halo of dark red hair. She approached me, her gaze warm and loving as she looked at me. There was a hopeful light in her eyes and her lips slowly upturned. "Rosie? Are you feeling better, sweetie?"

I didn't know what to say. Hesitantly, I reached towards her, stretching my tiny fingers up in the sky.

Her eyes watered, and she swooped down and picked me up with ease. " _Oh_. Oh, my sweet little flower. Is the pain gone? James! _James_!"

_My vision is remarkably good for being a baby. How is it even physically possible to have all the memories in the brain of a baby?_

Then a man appeared at the doorway as the woman held me close and began to kiss my forehead and cheek. James, I assumed, had shaggy dark hair and deep blue eyes behind round glasses. A strong sense of familiarity hit me upon seeing him.

In his arms was a baby—perhaps three weeks, I would guess—who was sound asleep. "Lily? What's—Rosie isn't crying anymore?"

Lily was crying quietly by that point, kissing me over and over. "She's safe now. She didn't hit the one-month mark. Her magic finally stopped building in her head."

_Magic? Wait... Lily? James?_

_No way._

James choked back a sob as he stepped towards us and— _and placed the baby in his arms in the middle of the air_.

I stared in shock at the floating baby before James pulled us both into his arms and began to kiss Lily and I each on our cheeks. "I knew she would be okay. I knew it. Our little rose is as tough as they come."

"Yes, love. Oh, Rosaline Lily Potter you had us so worried."

Rosaline Lily Potter.

Potter.

Lily and James Potter.

So, in addition to being reborn, I was reborn as the daughter of Lily and James Potter. Likely twin sister to Harry James Potter, the protagonist of _Harry Potter_.

_Death is the next great adventure._

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

About a week later, I had mostly everything figured out. I had died and been reborn as the fraternal twin sister to Harry. I was (by that point) a month old.

Typically, a month-old child would not be able to remember sentences, let alone an entire past life.

It would appear that all that pain I had felt after Lily gave birth to me was my brain having repeated aneurysms and the magic inside the body constantly fixing it. My tiny brain was forced into rapid development to accommodate all the memories and knowledge I possessed. In a typical sense, that would be impossible.

But in a magical sense, it was apparently entirely possible. The doctors had told Lily and James that my magic was building up inside my head, and if it didn't relieve within a month, they would be forced to cripple my magical core and turn me near-squib, or I would become brain dead. The phenomenon was called Death's Kiss. It occurred in newborn magical infants, with a fatality rate of eighty percent, a squib rate of fifteen percent, and everything becoming a-okay of five percent.

The sheer luck I had was unprecedented. Not only was I reborn into my all-time favorite series, but I survived the process, _and_ I got to be Harry's sister.

I could _not_ have asked for a better "next adventure."

How many times had I _dreamed_ about being able to affect the Potterverse? And here I was with the greatest opportunity of lifetimes.

I was _not_ going to mess this up.

Lily was a wonderful mother. Although, she clearly was new and at times seemed at a loss with how to ease Harry's cries. My darling baby brother (even if he was born ahead of me, given my true age he would always be my baby brother now) cried easily, like all newborns. He couldn't yet sleep throughout the night and if for an instant he was left alone in the room, he would ball hysterically.

Lily did her best, and James tried valiantly to help. Lily would rock her son while murmuring sweet nothings, while James would do odd bits of tricks to coax a smile or laugh. It was endearing to watch, and I felt incredibly affectionate toward the duo.

While they loved Harry, they never ignored me or showed favorites between us two. The young couple showered us with love and attention in between every moment they could spare. When Lily wasn't attending to us, she was working on complex and alien-looking schematics. James, though, would try to fix nonexistent problems around the house.

It wasn't hard to surmise that we were already under the Fidelius with Peter as our secret keeper.

The thought made me sick. Peter was easily one of the most hated characters in the fandom. His slimy nature on top of his betrayal was simply unforgivable. I wished I could voice my thoughts, but what could I do? I barely had control over my own body, and there was simply no way they would believe me when I said that Peter would betray them. I could try to tell them I "dreamed" about Peter betraying us, but I knew in my heart that would never work.

Still, I would try. I had to at least _try_. When I was old enough to say words without drawing suspicion, I would tell them I dreamed of a "scary man" following "a rat" to us. That the rat opened the door to our home and the bad man came in. I couldn't get more obvious than that short of telling them all I read about everything to come from a book.

 _That_ could have dire consequences that I didn't understand.

But, that was still a solid four months (if I wanted to push it) to five months (to be safe) away. For now, it was watching the world around me, learning to control my body, and trying to get a hold of the magic inside me.

I always thought, you know, that it would be painfully obvious I had magic inside me if I was ever magical. Considering I had no magic in my first life, I thought for sure I would be able to notice the distinct difference between the bodies. Alas, the difference was not obvious enough that I could easily detect it right away. In fact, the magic in me was so "quiet" I had to strain and focus for nearly an hour before I could properly feel it. I hoped that in time that would be easier (both from practice, and that my magic would grow alongside my physical body).

Only time would tell.

There was a crackle of the fire, and whoosh of green flames before Sirius Black stepped into our living room. I raised my head up from where I sat in the playpen in the living room. Harry was snoring quietly on a pillow beside me, clutching onto a patchy stuffed deer. I had been playing with soft cubes for the past hour or so, attempting to force my fingers to pick them up and move them over, and over, in hopes of obtaining my previous life's dexterity as soon as possible.

Lily looked up from her pages of work—she nearly covered half the living room floor with her pages and floating books. A smile lit up her face. "Sirius!"

"The one and only," Sirius said with a grin and a gleam in his eyes. "How's my favorite new mother?"

Lily laughed. "I'm fine. James is upstairs if you want to see him."

I squealed out loud.

Sirius turned his head, and his gaze widened. "Little Rosie isn't crying anymore?"

Lily beamed, levitating herself up so she could stand up and hop over her papers. "No. Everything is fine now. She hasn't cried all week."

I squealed again, reaching my hands up, trying to grab the attention of one of my favorite—ah, can't really say character anymore, could I?—person ever. Sirius's smile stretched widely over his face and he hurried over to me to pick me up. Large hands grasped me and swung me up high. "Look at you, Rosie! You look like a little princess in that dress."

I giggled with delight, reaching out to his face and patting his cheek. Lily smiled at the two of us, reaching over and tucking behind a strand of dark red hair behind my ear.

"She looks exactly like you, Lily," Sirius said, readjusting me in his arms. "Got your hair, eye shape, nose, mouth—mirror image."

"She has James's curls and eye color," Lily corrected.

Sirius patted the top of my head, running his fingers through my unruly hair. "That she does. She'll be beautiful."

The thought made me laugh. Beauty was something I had never associated with myself. Scrubs and dark circles were all I could see myself with for the past three years of my life. Even with gorgeous parents such as Lily and James, I still couldn't imagine myself as one of the pretty girls in school. It would be neat if that happened, but I certainly wouldn't hold out hope.

"She'll be the most beautiful girl in the whole world," Lily bragged, kissing my forehead.

"James and I are going to have to beat the boys away, huh," Sirius joked.

"Or girls."

"Or girls," Sirius corrected himself.

"Padfoot?"

James's voice drew our attention towards the stairs where he hopped off the last stepped and beamed at his best friend.

Sirius grinned. "Prongs! Been too long."

Sirius handed me to Lily in order to man-hug James, the two men laughing and already starting to whisper mischievously to each other. Lily rolled her eyes. "You'll have to help me keep them in line, Rosie."

I patted her cheek. That would be an impossibility.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

At five months old I had finally achieved acceptable control over my body. I still lacked the strength and stamina to do many things, but I was greatly relieved that I wasn't _quite_ so helpless. Since I had reached the standard age (albeit a month early) for most children to start speaking, I decided to begin talking.

It was getting dreadfully boring squealing, pointing, and crying to communicate. Although, I had to hand it to Lily, James, and Sirius for picking up on my cues relatively quickly. Sirius came by about once a week when he could. He only stayed a handful of hours—enough to play with Harry and me, and update the Potters on the war front. I had yet to see Peter, thankfully. I wasn't sure I would be able to not scream in rage at him for what he would do to this loving family.

And it was a loving family. It was absolutely nothing like my previous home life. I felt no obligation, or expectation placed upon me. Lily and James were doting parents, and tried their best to keep us happy in an obviously dark time. It was admirable, and it made my heart ache even more so at how Peter would betray them.

I would do my best, though. I had to let them know without letting them in on how much I knew. I had no idea what would happen if someone else got their hands on all of my knowledge, so I had to be absolutely careful to not overtly give anything away. Dumbledore himself insisted on playing with time with _great care_ , and what I was about to do was... certainly going to require all the delicate handling of removing a ticking time bomb.

Oh, and of course study occlumency as soon as I was able. I was certain I would be able to have a quick grasp on it, since I already had the self-discipline from my past life instilled in me.

I played with Harry's hair in our playpen. Harry's bright green eyes lit up while he tried to fit a cube into a circle. His hair was soft, fluffy, and bounced back up when I patted it down. Harry enjoyed having his hair played with, and we quickly found that it soothed him when he cried.

Lily was preparing dinner for us (plus Sirius), with James's help. She waved her wand, and potatoes began to peel themselves before being placed into a boiling cauldron. James, meanwhile, was mixing a cake batter (who knew he loved to bake?) while telling Sirius to "watch his damn language".

My stomach rumbled, and I stood up from the playpen. I leaned heavily onto the red gate, watching the trio of adults. I cleared my throat and then said (squealed more like), "Mama!"

Everything froze. All adults turned towards the playpen, and Lily's face morphed into sheer excitement. "Rosie?!"

"Mama!"

Lily screamed, leaping up into the air and then shooting across the room towards me. "Rosie! Did you say "Mama?""

"Mama! Papa!"

James dropped his bowl of the mix, his face bright as can be as he ran towards us. Lily picked me up into the air, twirling me around before James then picked both of us up. I repeated their titles in a chant, warm feeling of happiness bubbling inside me that I could make such wonderful people so happy. When the spinning was done, James picked up Harry and ruffled his hair. "We have the brightest kids."

"Papa hungry."

"Look at that," Lily exclaimed. "Her first words and sentence! She's so early—so bright!"

_Pretty sure this constitutes as cheating, but the compliment is still appreciated._

"Let's feed the pups, then," Sirius said, giving me a wink. He had cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during the commotion.

"Paddy!" I declared, pointing at Sirius.

Our godfather gave us a splitting grin and eagerly stole me from Lily's arms; she whipped out her wand and threatened to hex him into tomorrow if he didn't give me back, but he danced around the house and essentially played monkey in the middle (Lily in the middle, and I as the ball) with James. Harry squealed with delight, watching the game and sparks of magic around the house.

By the time it was done, dinner was well over burned, and they had to start again, but nothing was able to shake the smile on their faces for the rest of the evening.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

The next night, when Harry woke up screaming, I screamed alongside him. It wasn't hard to coax tears out—the hormones in my body were as powerful as puberty—and when the parents came to the bedroom Lily picked up her son and began to rock and calm him while James picked me up and rubbed my back.

"Shh, shh," Lily soothed. "It's okay Harry, Mama's here."

James began to rock me in place. "It's okay now, Rosie. It's okay."

"Rat," I hiccuped. "Bad. Bad rat."

James kissed the top of my head. "Bad rat?"

"Bad rat. Bring bad man."

"The bad rat brings the bad man?" Lily murmured, taking Harry over to the changing table.

James kissed me again. "There, there, Rosie. There are no bad rats. You're safe."

"Bad rat brings bad man."

"Do you think—?"

"Of course not, Lily," James exclaimed. "It's simply a bad dream. The doctor told us she could have recurring bad dreams after recovering from Death's Kiss. They'll go away in a month, or so."

Wait, what?

 _Shit_.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Every night Harry woke up crying, I would cry alongside him and tell them about the bad dream. With stubbornness only a wizard could possess, James continuously dismissed the dream and reassured Lily it meant nothing. After a month passed and I continued to have the dream, James became a bit more hesitant.

The next time Sirius came by, he carried armfuls of books. I wasn't able to see the titles, but James and Lily became engrossed in them for three days.

Upon emerging from their readings, they both looked immensely relieved.

My next nightmare of Peter betraying them, and they had me drink an odd white potion that bubbled down my throat.

Again, and again it happened. They never mentioned thinking for an instant that they believed in my dreams. As time went on, I got a bit more elaborate in my dreams, describing Peter as best as I could, but they never faltered.

(Later on, I would learn they would discover that children affected by Death's Kiss were plagued by worst-case-scenario nightmares. They picked up on the worst possible outcome that could occur every night and for many years they would dream about it. It happened less than one percent of the time, but given that I was already in the five percent margin for surviving Death's Kiss without being turned squib, they figured I was in the one percent, too. Plus, you know, _**the power of Potter Plot is strong.**_ So no matter what I said, what I described, they would only ever view it as a dream and force-feed me a dreamless draught.)

I was fearful of what was to come. I wished Dumbledore would come by, but he never did. I even tried to drop hints that I needed to see him (I dreamed about him coming by, and that it made me "very happy"), but nothing worked.

Short of telling them the absolute truth, I was running out of ideas.

As we neared our one-year birthday, my mind was becoming more, and more flustered. My magic lashed out accordingly, and Lily and James were forced to put me to sleep frequently, so I didn't accidentally hurt myself or Harry.

I feared I wouldn't be able to save them.

But, I had to keep trying.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

On our one-year-old birthday, Harry woke up first with an excited squeal. He was levitating in his bed, slowly drifting up to the ceiling from a burst of accidental magic.

It brought a smile on my face to see my brother so happy in the morning. He didn't have a lot of accidents with magic, unlike me, but when he did it usually revolved around levitating or summoning items to him.

My bursts had died down the couple of weeks leading up to the birthday, as I was able to get a very vague hold on them. Thankfully, I could sense my magic a lot easier after months of practice, but it was far from perfect. I still couldn't command it to do as I wished, but that was to be expected. Apparently, witches and wizards developed their magic up until the age of ten rapidly. Their magic would steadily grow, along with spurts of significant growth spurts that caused the magic to lash out. It was why children did not attend magical school until ten, because their magic would be unreliable until it leveled out in its growth. There were instances where people had bursts throughout puberty, as well, but nowhere near as common as childhood.

Magic during childhood was unreliable. It struggled to fit inside the growing body and fought to stay calm. At times, it really seemed like it had a mind of its own. The only thing in tune with its and my desire was to keep the physical body safe and healthy.

But, I was stubborn.

If I wanted to do the things I wanted to do, I would need a hold on my magic sooner than ten years old.

So, every night after Lily and James tucked me in and fed me a dreamless potion, I laid in bed and tried to call forth my magic.

I tried to bring it towards my hand and push enough of it out of my body to see it. It took nearly an hour every night (sometimes two, if unlucky), but I had faith that dedicated practice would fruit success.

James was the first to enter our bedroom, laughing at seeing his son floating in the air.

Harry clapped his hands. "Papa!"

James reached up and plucked Harry from the air. "Morning, Harry. Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday, Harry," I chirped.

James waved his right hand at me and I felt the tug of his magic. I floated out of my crib and into James's right arm. Harry, in his left, reached towards me and hugged me. I kissed his cheek.

"Happy birthday, Rosie," James told me.

"Happy birthday," I echoed, patting Harry's cheek. "Cake?"

"Later," James promised me. "How about we head downstairs? Paddy is here!"

"Paddy!" I squealed with delight.

James carried us downstairs, and we found the living room to be lovingly decorated with banners, posters, pictures, and presents. A shaggy black dog laid on the carpet in the middle, his belly up in the air. I screamed with joy, squirming to play with Sirius in his animagus form. James laughed and sat me down on the living room floor, and then headed to the kitchen with Harry to work on our birthday cake.

My tiny toddler legs moved as quickly as I could to the happy dog who playfully growled at me. I leapt onto his belly, hearing the soft _umph_ from him before Sirius rolled over and grabbed the back of my shirt before tossing me up into the air. I felt his magic coil around me, levitating me in the air before gently lowering me down. I fell onto the soft carpet onto my bum before scrambling to stand back up and proceed to chase Sirius around the carpet.

He would playfully catch me again, and again, tossing me into the air and then levitating me down.

It was an absolute delight, and I relished it.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Now I'm sure...

I'm sure you would think that by the time that awful night came to be I would have had a solution prepared, right?

I had _literally over a year_ to find one.

But I didn't.

Every maneuver, or plot I cooked up was batted away. My control over magic was barely good enough to levitate paper, let alone fortify my home against _the_ Tom Riddle, all grown up and hopped up on dark magic.

The only card I hadn't pulled was being blatantly honest, and my gut was screaming at me that it would result in a worst-case scenario.

Such as being taken away from my parents and handed off to Unspeakables to be experimented on.

Not that Lily and James were malicious people, but think about it from their perspective: An adult is in the body of their child and has been pretending to be their baby for over a year.

Creepy would be an understatement.

(I'm a little creeped out myself when I think about it like that.)

When... when that night came it was... it was horrible.

I had seen people die before, seen them die from slowly devouring diseases, seen them bleed out on an operating table, seen them begged to be saved right before their heart stops working.

Death was not something one could ignore as a medical student.

I learned very early on, due to my mother, how to compartmentalize and "cope" with the stress of being a doctor—of inevitably losing patients.

But sweet mercy _that did not help me that night._

What do you want me to say?

Do you want me to tell you the step by step gruesome detail of a kind man and woman who were murdered before me?

(It was heart wrenching)

Do you want me to tell you how fucking handsome that murderer was that killed them?

(Side note: he was. Very unfairly. Dark arts _bastard_.)

Do you want me to tell you how we screamed in our crib? How we cried, with every fiber of our being as Lily fell forward dead?

Do you want those details?

No.

No, you don't.

Or rather, _I won't give them._

That night was literal hell.

And it forever tilted my viewpoint on death.

 _On mercy_.

Because I decided, as I stared over their corpses, and held Harry's hand, that mercy was not an option for us.

Kindness was not available as long as the threats were active.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

And so

A checklist—

No.

 _The Bucket List_ —

—was made.

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**


	2. Pre-School 2

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Severus Snape was the first to come to us.

It was... awkward to watch him break down over Lily's corpse. Out of respect, I covered Harry's eyes, and politely looked away. My dear little brother was exhausted from crying hysterically for the past couple of hours after the whole... Thing That Happened.

Snape wasn't there for long. He knew others would be coming soon, and he collected himself after having his solid cry fest before leaving. Barely three minutes later Sirius bounded into the home, panicked, then he hoarsely cried out for Lily and James.

I heard him find James.

The choked back sob was ragged, and he stumbled up the steps finding Lily next.

It was not a loud breakdown like Snape.

Sirius fell to his knees, tears spilling over his eyes. Color washed out of him, dark waves of grief pulling him down and forcing the young man to crumple under its weight. It was not an explosion of pain, but a silent cascade of misery that drowned him.

It was—it was impossible not to cry beside him, causing Harry to wake up and start crying all over again. Snape was overwhelming, and I was still fresh from the shock of it all that I could numbly ignore it, but seeing a man I had come to care for as family fall apart was—

As soon as he noticed us he jerked forward, limbs springing to life as he incredulously stared at us in shock.

"You're alive?" he whispered, voice cracking as he picked both of us. "Merlin's balls you're both alive?"

Harry couldn't stop whimpering or crying, and I clung onto Sirius.

He held us tightly as minutes dragged on and on. Shock must have prevented him from doing much else. Harry lost his energy after enough time and slipped into an exhausted slumber, while I forced myself to stay awake.

I had to.

I could not allow my guard to drop, what happened next that night _had_ to be changed from the canonical story.

A solid hour must have passed before Sirius started to slowly, _slowly_ , begin to carry us out of the house. His motorcycle was parked outside, and rushing up to us was an out of breath Hagrid.

"S—Sirius!" Hagrid bellowed. "Oh—Oh Bloo'y 'ell, is tha—?"

"Dead," Sirius whispered. "James and Lily they're both—but—"

"Sirius we gotta get 'Arry and Rosie to Dumbledore," Hagrid said hurriedly.

"Take them. I have to go. I have to find—"

"NO!" I screamed, flailing my magic around as I clung onto Sirius with all my might. "DON'T LEAVE US! NO, PADDY, NO!"

Sirius let out a shout of surprise as my magic lashed out, waking Harry up who started to profusely cry again. My outburst startled him dearly enough that he was a fish out of water gaping at me in disbelief. "R-Rosie?"

"NO!" I shouted as loudly as I could, wrapping my tiny fingers around the collar of his shirt. "NO LEAVE!"

"I—I think yeh shoul' come," Hagrid said, carefully taking Harry out of Sirius's other arm so Sirius could try to console me.

"Rosie I have to go," Sirius insisted, trying to unstick me from him. My magic must have been in a good mood that day because it clung onto him, making it nearly impossible for him to remove me without pulling out his wand. "Rosie!"

"NO!"

Hagrid placed a massive hand on Sirius's back. "C'mon. Tyke ain't lettin' go."

"You don't understand. He's going to get away with it now!" Sirius snapped, pulling harder on me. He was trying not to hurt me, but he was having to use more strength to try to remove me. Although compared to the torture he would face in Azkaban if I let him go, this level of embarrassment and pain was nothing.

" _NO!_ "

It took a solid ten minutes of me screaming, kicking, sobbing, and clinging onto Sirius but eventually, the hot-headed man relented and came along with us to Dumbledore.

A good thing, too.

Since he didn't chase after Pettigrew, Dumbledore was able to learn about the Secret Keeper switch immediately.

Sirius Black was never blamed for their deaths, and so Sirius Black was never sentenced to Azkaban and instead inherited legal guardianship over Harry and Rosaline Potter.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Dumbledore was a quiet, and kindly old man. He was not a perfect man, but he tried to do what he thought was right. He was a character that you either loved, or hated.

I admired him.

He made mistakes. There were issues in the story that could have been better handled, but they were perfectly human flaws. He was not so arrogant as to claim to be the one with all the answers, but he tried to help where he could.

The biggest flaw he had was that he was human.

Truly, a flaw many of us struggled with.

Contrary to what some fans would guess, he did not encourage Sirius to give up guardianship to Petunia. He was visibly relieved that Sirius accepted his role without fuss (well, okay, there was some crying involved behind closed doors when both men thought I was asleep like Harry). Both agreed Harry and I should still live in relative seclusion while growing up for our own safety.

They also vehemently agreed that using a secret keeper was not an option again.

For one month Harry and I stayed with Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had private quarters in his office where the two of us slept under Fawkes' watchful eye. McGonagall was the only other professor to know about us there, and she visited us while Dumbledore had to attend to other duties.

From what I could understand, Sirius and Dumbledore were rapidly working on setting up a new safe house for us.

Frustratingly enough, the adults didn't speak about the specifics of what was going on to the two toddlers. I couldn't blame them, but I still wished they would tell me.

I knew there was a lot of celebration going on, and I knew the press was howling to meet us. We were given an award—McGonagall had asked Dumbledore why it was given to both of us when the prophecy spoke of one. Dumbledore told her very plainly he did not want something as silly as fame to come between two siblings, and that it was better if the world had two saviors, instead of one.

Which, hello, yes. Thank you for not putting all that fame onto only one sibling. Very good! Someone read a parenting book at least once. I was mature enough not to get jealous when Harry would inevitably take the spotlight, but it was good common sense not to show blatant favoritism for _twins_.

At the end of the month inside Dumbledore's quarters, we were whisked away and placed in our new home. It was a very large two-story cottage-style home with a massive yard that was surrounded by thick pine trees.

A new home for us, and Sirius Black as our new guardian. Remus was, thankfully, a new common visitor and helped us move in. I overheard Sirius repeatedly asking Remus to move in, but the werewolf was concerned about the potential danger of being around children on the full moon.

Didn't stop him from visiting us nearly every day for the following months, though. A good thing, too, as it looked like Remus was now Sirius's only consistent contact with the outside world.

(Although to be noted: Sirius was fully capable of leaving the home, but it was agreed upon that if he did so, Dumbledore should come over to essentially babysit us, and confirm that when Sirius did return he was not compromised. Again, this genuinely surprised me by how logical it was. I was fully prepared to deal with little common sense in this world, but I am so pleasantly surprised to be wrong.)

(Also to be noted in hindsight: This did not always happen because Sirius was at loathe to bother Dumbledore during the school years and would instead call for Remus.)

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Rosie, age three**

It was very late into the evening. Harry and I had been tucked into bed hours ago, but I crawled out of bed when I heard Sirius get out the alcohol. The upstairs consisted of four bedrooms and three bathrooms. Harry and I shared a bathroom that connected our rooms. Sirius had the master bedroom with a private bathroom and Remus would occasionally crash in one of the other rooms. The old-styled cottage creaked with every harsh wind, so sneaking out of my room was a piece of cake on windy nights.

I heard Sirius sigh quietly. From the hallway, I peeked down the stairs and into the living room where I saw Remus pour each of them a glass of firewhiskey. I hugged my blanket around me, as I sat on the top step and peered through the railing into the living room below. The two friends sat on the couch, Sirius looking over an official-looking parchment and muttering. "Why? Why would she do this?"

"Who can say," Remus murmured, taking a shot. "What are you going to do?"

"What _can_ be done? I'm Lord Black now, now that that bitch died," Sirius grumbled, then snorted. "The family I tried so desperately to escape, and now that title is bonded to me until death. That spiteful _bitch_."

Remus patted Sirius on the shoulder as Sirius took another shot - that was his four that I had seen. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not a lot can be done. Want an estate?"

Remus gave Sirius a weary look. "No, thanks."

Sirius winced. "If I leave it to rot, as an official Lord, I'll be charged fees for abandoning a Noble and Ancient home. I can't move the kids there, shit's filled with dark magic."

"Won't Kreacher be able to maintain it?"

"That bastard is too old. I would have to purchase another House Elf to help him, at the very least."

An idea popped into my head. "Paddy? Moony?"

Both adults turned up towards the staircase, and Remus stood up. "Rosie? What are you doing up?"

"I don' sleep good somey-times," I said, intentionally lowering my vocabulary use to not draw suspicion. I squeezed through the bars on the stairs and tumbled into the air. Sirius immediately cast a slow-falling charm on me and then levitated me over to them. He caught me and placed me in his lap.

"We should get you to bed, though."

"But, I ha' an idea," I protested.

The adults chuckled at the idea of a three-year-old having an idea that would be prudent to their predicament.

"Bring Kreacher here," I said.

Sirius shook his head. "He's not someone to have around kids."

"Bring Kreacher here," I repeated stubbornly, "'nother elf clean the old place. It's filled with stuff, right? We migh' nee' some of tha' later."

Sirius grimaced. "I don't know—"

"Paddy, please?"

"He's not right in the head, Rosie," Sirius insisted, his tone softening.

"Just for a little bit? If he's really that bad you can send him away again," I pleaded.

There was a sigh, and an exchange between glances.

"Would it hurt to try?" Remus asked Sirius. "She has a good point—we don't want Kreacher going to the Malfoys, and doing nothing won't help us."

"Fine."

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**The following night**

"Kreacher?" I called out, sitting up in my bed.

My bedroom was... well, you could tell Sirius literally just went to a girl's section in a store and bought _everything_. Surprisingly it wasn't overly pink—apparently Lily hated that color—but there was a lot of pastels. I had shelves lined with children's books, and stuffed animals. My walls were covered in moving pictures of flowers, or meadows, or very cute animals wearing bow ties. My bed cover was checkered pastels.

It looked like a unicorn threw up in here, basically.

Actually—

Since every Christmas as Rosie Sirius had made it a point to get me a stuffed unicorn. I had three so far, and they were all rather soft.

Endearing that he tried so hard, but boy did he miss the mark for my personal preferences.

Oh, well.

Kreacher appeared in my room with a snap, tired yellow eyes glaring hatefully at me. "How can I help the young child?"

"Regulus's locket."

The elf froze, his eyes widening. "What?"

"The locket he told you to destroy—it's very special. It can only be destroyed through basilisk venom, a dementor's kiss, or fiendfyre. Understand?"

Kreacher gaped at me. "Y-Yes."

"Will you be able to destroy it now?" I asked him. "Give me an honest answer."

"Yes," Kreacher said.

"Good. Go do it."

And he was gone.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

The next time I saw Kreacher, the elf didn't glare quite so hatefully at me. He looked healthier, too. There was a glow to his skin, and he wasn't as hunched down. It boggled my mind that being unable to complete command would be so detrimental to an elf, but that was magic, I supposed.

In between the ages of three to four, as I worked on controlling my magic and researching for my list, I sought Kreacher out again and again. The grizzled elf was gruff, but no longer so discourteous.

And when I reached out with kindness, he did not snuff it away.

It took nine months, two weeks, and three days, but in the end Kreacher began to call me _young mistress_.

The first thing I asked of him when he did so?

"Kreacher, Paddy hid something of my father's. The Cloak of Invisibility," I told him. "Can you bring it to me when I need it, and put it back without him noticing?"

After all, I had seen Dumbledore return it to Sirius when we moved into our new home. Surely Sirius had kept it.

Kreacher nodded his head, yellow eyes glinting in malicious glee at the thought of deceiving Sirius. "Yes, young mistress, Kreacher can. Kreacher can glamour the hidden spot, as well, so bad master will never knows."

I beamed at him, reaching forward to gently touch the top of his head. "Thank you, Kreacher."

The House Elf smiled crookedly, bursting with inward joy at the simple praise.

_Note to self, work on Kreacher's self-esteem, and read up on survivors of long term extensive domestic abuse._

With the cloak down, it was time to go back to line three, which could either be the hardest, or the easiest.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Rosie, age four**

"Paddy!" I greeted him early the next morning, Harry right behind me and holding onto my hand. "Paddy, we wanna learn to fly!"

Sirius Black lowered his weekly subscription to _Quidditch Quest_ on the dark table where our breakfast sat. Sirius never liked the idea of eating food made by Kreacher, so he learned at a young age how to cook his own meals. Perhaps out of love for James, or in memory of him, Sirius became exceptionally fond of baking. Soufflé pancakes were a regular breakfast item in the household on the good mornings.

I didn't like to talk about the bad mornings. Sirius did his best to raise us, but he had days when he couldn't even bring himself to get out of bed, let alone make food for us. Grief was a terrible, awful, cruel thing, and I understood it well enough to not raise a fuss on those days. I would watch Kreacher make us food, and I would tend to Harry if Remus didn't arrive. I doubted Sirius noticed any of it, and I was glad it had never been brought up. I didn't think I could explain my odd maturity without arousing more suspicion.

"That true?" Sirius asked, looking Harry and I directly in the eye.

"Broom, vroom!" Harry said cheerfully, shuffling behind me in such an adorable fashion.

Sirius stared at us for another minute, and then he let out an elated whoop and swooped us both up, one under each of his arms. "WOOOOOOOOOO! LET'S GO FLY, PUPPIES!"

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

1\. Save Sirius

2\. Destroy the locket (recruit Kreacher)

3\. Learn to fly

4\. Find the cloak of invisibility

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you October 8th!
> 
>  **Answer:** Trying all the food.
> 
>  **Question:** Who would you wish to be your magical guardian?
> 
> Reviews are **love**!


	3. Pre-School 3

**Beta: Cloudy**

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Rosie, age 5**

EMPs were not overly difficult to make. Anyone could make them, really. They required lithium batteries, wires, extra metal, a disposable camera, soldering experience, and time. In high school I took four years of engineering classes under PLTW and for my final project I made an assortment of EMP timed traps and a small bot programmed to escape a maze without running into the EMP traps. It took all of my senior year, and a lot of help from my teacher, but I got the hang of it.

After confirming, and reaffirming, that I could use technology under the wards (but at the very edge, and not inside the heavily magicked cottage), I set about creating a makeshift treehouse to use as my workshop. I needed a safe place to create several dozen EMPs for the first step of my plan.

Plus I always wanted a treehouse.

It didn't take much asking for Sirius to get some wood and make a treehouse for me within a day. It did take a little arguing on my part for him to not put any enchantments inside the treehouse, but he relented soon enough.

It was a small, cute little thing. He built a ladder into one of the few large oak trees in our front yard and put together a small house-looking abode. It was big enough to accommodate children, but once I hit puberty I would have to squat and crawl around to get around the room. He put in a couple of tables, and we brought out an abundance of blankets and pillows and anti-flame-spreading candles.

Harry adored the treehouse, and he frequently went up there to read his beloved books. Sirius, thankfully, consented to our rule that no adults would be allowed inside the treehouse, and when the two of us went up, he would pull out the radio and sit outside listening to our laughter, and the music. Despite being a man child, Sirius was loath to let us out of his sight completely while sober.

After obtaining the treehouse, I had to get the supplies to create an EMP. The hardware store had everything I needed, and thankfully Kreacher was more than capable of obtaining the items discreetly and dropping them off in my treehouse. I also had Kreacher pick up leather gloves, as a precaution against forensic evidence.

Then, it was time to create.

I headed up into the treehouse in the early morning, Harry quietly following behind me and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

He had another nightmare, that night, and had crawled into my bed. I didn't particularly want him to see what I was making, but it wasn't such a big deal that I felt the need to hide it. Harry was good at keeping secrets, and if I asked him not to tell anyone else, he wouldn't.

We crawled into the treehouse, and the candles flickered alive upon us entering. Harry immediately went to his corner of pillows and blankets and flopped down. I pulled up a tiny chair to the bench and dumped out the supplies from the first bag Kreacher placed upon the bench. I rummaged through everything before I pulled out the soldering gun and numerous battery packs. I would need to use quite a few of the batteries to power the soldering gun since we had no electrical outlets.

I set to work creating the first EMP. The process took nearly two and a half hours (because I had to be meticulous, and double-check everything. It would become faster after practice, but for now, it was slow-going.

Harry stopped reading his book after I finished the first EMP and looked over at what I created. "What's that, Rosie?"

"Secret," I told him. "Can you keep it a secret?"

"Yeah," Harry said firmly, nodding his head as his eyes grew wide. "What is it?"

"An EMP. It disrupts electricity."

"What's that?"

"It's what Muggles use in place of magic."

"Why do you need that?"

"To help keep the Statute of Secrecy."

"Why?"

I turned around and pinched his nose. "Ask me when you're older."

Harry's nose crinkled in distaste, but he did not ask further. He was always such a good boy.

"Kids?" We popped our heads out of the treehouse's window as Sirius stepped outside the backdoor.

Harry grinned and waved. "Up here, Uncle Paddy!"

Sirius waved back, smiling at us. "Want some breakfast?"

Harry nodded eagerly and dropped from the tree house hole onto the thick grass below.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Later that night**

The night sky was beautiful.

London at night was a treat unlike I had seen before. I had flown over cities in my past life, but nothing so glamorous or sparkling like London. The night was a tint of dark blue, and the lights of London a sparkling warm yellow. Soaring above it felt like a cinematic experience.

I was so glad I snuck out. Even if my mission failed, the view alone was worth it.

Now, my immediate first threat was: _Would the wards notice if I was leaving?_

One night when Sirius was having a bad day, he drank away all the whiskey while Harry and I were _supposedly_ asleep. Once properly intoxicated I started asking him about the wards. It was hard to discern some of his answers, but Kreacher helped translate. Apparently House Elves could speak drunk.

The strongest ward available to homes was a Fidelius, following that were blood wards. Both of which were not available to us for one reason or another. That left high powered layered wards that most noble homes had.

A home could either detect what was coming in, _or_ what was coming out. Doing both would cause instability in the setup, and the wards would collapse on each other within a year.

So, no.

That being said, the next question is: _Would the wards notice if I entered them?_

Only if I was an unexpected guest. Wards did not trigger, or alert the Lord of the Home if people of the same household were coming and going. Harry and I were both registered to the wards.

This was required because the wards _would_ detect if Harry and I were near malicious intent, or hurt. Such wards only worked on those keyed into the home wards.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

After twenty minutes of flying I arrived at the V&A Museum.

I had been studying the blueprint Kreacher made of it for the past month, and now it was time to act.

I didn't _need_ the EMPs. All I needed was the cloak of invisibility, a broom, and the spells: Wingardium Leviosa, Silencio, and Alohomora down pat. I had spent the past three years perfecting the past three spells to the best of my ability. I could perform them without the wand, but it took great concentration, and unfortunately I still needed to speak them and move my finger like a wand.

The EMPs were to provide an explanation as to why the security cameras didn't work. I would activate the EMPs when I reached the goal, and in the thirty seconds it took for security to notice the error and call the police, I would grab as many of the items I could under the cloak and into the expandable pouch. Whatever was too heavy to lift by hand I would levitate.

With the camera's down, they wouldn't see the theft, and the Statue of Secrecy wouldn't be overtly violated. While they swarmed the place, I would hide in a corner on my broom under the cloak. Even if Aurors came (I couldn't discount that I _could_ trigger an accidental magic alert even without my wand. I wasn't sure how the Ministry tracked accidental magic-if perhaps small and intentional acts did not trigger it, or...), the cloak was far too powerful and would hide me from them unless Mad-Eye Moody came out of retirement suddenly. When the opportunity arose I would make my escape and return home.

I had to place the EMPs around the museum—even in parts that I wouldn't go to—and set the timer on them to trigger in ten minutes after placing them.

It wasn't a lot of them, but I figured this would have to be fast.

If all else failed, I had the emergency portkey Sirius gave each of us. I hoped not to use it—because it was a one-time use, and explaining to Sirius why I had to use a portkey would be tricky. But, it was there.

I descended upon the V&A museum in London, adrenaline, and anxiety chorusing through me.

A part of me was thrilled— _I'm a thief! I'm stealing!_

In my previous life, I would have never considered it. Daring to do anything outside the neat lines Mother had drawn for me warranted time in the closet and missed dinners. I hadn't even shoplifted before, yet here I was about to commit numerous illegal acts for the sake of a plan that I wasn't even sure would work.

But, I needed the money. I needed the money and power _fast_ if I wanted to do the things I needed to do. I couldn't access the Potter vault any time soon; nor was I talented enough to steal from Death Eaters (as I planned to do later). All I had was my previous life's knowledge of technology, and magic at my disposal.

And an undeniable urge to have no regrets this time around.

At least I could hopefully cross off _Become an Art Thief_ off my bucket list after tonight.

I hovered before the back door of the museum before I raised my finger and went through the motions of Alohomora. It took three tries, but I finally got it and the door swung open. Then, moving as quickly as I could, I began to place the EMPs around each corner. I flew around the patrolling guards, and none of them noticed.

When I reached my goal: the crown jewelry room (filled with old royal crowns, uncut diamonds, and other precious jewels, as well as antique and priceless jewels). I pulled out completely ordinary rocks from my expandable pouch and took a deep breath.

1986: before the bullet-proof glass was implemented in all museums, and perfect computer security.

My timer for the EMPs went off and I threw as many rocks as I could at the cases. I urged my broom forward, grabbing what I could and stuffing it into the expandable pouch, while levitating what was too far away towards me with my other hand. I heard shouts, as security officers sprinted through the hallways.

"Security is down! I can't call for backup?!"

"We must have intruders, someone get the police!"

"Phones are down!"

When an officer came into the room I was in, I stopped everything, pulled the cloak tighter around me and began to make my escape. Thankfully, the EMPs worked a bit too well and prevented the gates from coming down.

I was out the backdoor and soaring through the night sky again.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Returning home was a... quiet affair.

Except for the fact that Kreacher 100% caught me, but that was to be expected. I knew going in this would be a difficult thing to hide from the House Elf. It's why I didn't bother.

Kreacher was never going to be fond of Sirius, and the feeling was mutual.

But he was a teeny bit fond of me. Primarily because I assisted him in completing Regulus's last order to him, and secondly because I treated him dearly.

"Welcome home, young mistress," Kreacher greeted me.

"Thank you, Kreacher," I whispered, hopping onto the balcony of my bedroom. I pulled out the sack of stolen goods. "There are precious artifacts I stole from the Muggle museum. Will you be able to pawn them off?"

I had already discussed it ahead of time with Kreacher. He assured me he could complete the order—it was not the first time the Black elf had to deal with stolen / illegal goods. Primarily in purchasing them, but he knew who to sell them to.

Kreacher's gnobbly fingers grasped around the bag as he said, "Yes, mistress."

"Thank you, my dear."

Kreacher's ears wobbled happily.

I honestly thought it was pretty cute.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

5\. Become a badass thief and make shit tons of money

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Answer:** McGonagall.
> 
>  **Question:** Would you rather be reborn in a dark!pureblood family, neutral!pureblood family, good!pureblood family, as a muggleborn, or muggleborn!family, or something else entirely?
> 
> Reviews are **love**!


	4. Pre-School 4

**Beta: Cloudy**

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

It wasn't right, what he did. No matter how bad things got deliberately harming children to get back at their parents was never going to be the answer, nor was it forgivable. It was an awful, and cruel thing to do.

But I could _understand_ it.

Strictly from a psychological standpoint, at least. Shunned and forced into self-loathing isolation would permanently damage anyone's psyche. Spending years alone, longing for acceptance but mercilessly turned away at every attempt would break even the strongest men. In addition, society itself would go out of its way to harm him for simply _existing._ Werewolves were the snubbed-ilk that society perpetually spat upon and conveniently looked the other way when it suited their needs. Anyone would grow bitter from that. Anyone would want justice, would want _someone_ to know how unfair society was.

Fenrir Greyback made it his life's goal to convert as many as he could, to _force_ society to acknowledge werewolves and force them to accept them.

For someone left uneducated, alone, and consistently spurned, it was the only idea he had; the only _hope_ he had.

_If everyone is a werewolf, no one will hurt me again._

So while his actions were deplorable and unforgivable, I could understand them.

And I detested the magical society for it.

I didn't understand how I knew where to find him—didn't understand how I knew to send the owl addressed to Fenris Grey. It was one of those odd things that floated in my mind and I had to wonder if maybe I read about it on Pottermore or something.

I made a little basket with food, water, and basic medical supplies. I added a thick blanket because it was cold, and I knew he would be sleeping outside. Then I made a little letter:

_To Fenris,_

_You do not know me, and we will not meet for some time. You may call me Enáretos, and you should know that I am on the side of the werewolves. I hope the basket helps you._

_Your friend,_

_Enáretos_

A small, and simple gesture.

But it was the first step I had to take.

If I wanted to fix the prejudice in society, I had to acknowledge its mistakes and _try_ to correct them.

(Although in the private part of mind I could quietly admit that I was not acting solely out of righteousness. There was a selfish motive to my move. But only in the dark parts of my mind would I be willing to say even that much yet.)

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**A week later:**

_Dear Fenris,_

_A very happy holidays to you. I have come of wind of some lovely gifts I believe your pack might enjoy. As always, if there is anything you require do not hesitate to ask._

_Your friend,_

_Enáretos_

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Five months later**

_Dear Fenris,_

_A ghost whispered to me that there is a raid scheduled for your camp tomorrow night. Take caution and evacuate. I have included more expandable bags for you._

_Your friend,_

_Enáretos_

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

_Enáretos_ _,_

_The pack is safe. Watched the raid happen from the distance._

_Thanks._

_Fenris_

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Several more months later**

_Dear Fenris,_

_While spring is always a delight to see, it comes with an abundance of allergies for those with sensitive noses like you and your pack. I have included some nasal potions for all of you. If you require more, please let me know._

_I have also looked into your previous request, and I believe I will be able to procure it by next week._

_Lastly, please enjoy these cookies I baked._

_Your friend,_

_Enáretos_

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

_Enáretos_ _,_

_The peanut butter chocolate chip cookies were good. We need more clothes for the girls. Sizes M - XXL._

_Fenris_

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Fenrir Interlude**

Fenrir did not know what to think about his new... benefactor.

Every week for a little over a year a letter was sent to him using an alias he only provided to those he absolutely trusted—all of which had been dead for more than a couple of years.

In the letter was a brief message, conveying well-wishes and always, _always_ ending with asking Fenrir what else he needed.

The first two months Fenrir never responded back to the letters.

With each letter was a package that contained necessities that were hard to come by for his pack. Medicine too expensive for them to buy, and too well protected to steal. Durable clothes and blankets that weren't covered in tears, dirt, and blood. Food baked just for them that wasn't stale, from the trash, or hard to eat.

There were even some books ranging from children to young adults.

And of course, a small sack of galleons.

Fenrir would be lying if he said his new benefactor wasn't... helpful.

But it was too damn weird.

Something was off, _something_ was wrong with this picture.

People didn't help werewolves—certainly not Fenrir! Fenrir was the most hated werewolf in society, and those who associated with him only did so out of desire to use his power against their enemies.

Even Voldemort rejected Fenrir, only ever seeing him as a tool to be used and discarded.

It took three months before Fenrir finally decided to test the waters.

He took up pen and paper and wrote back:

_What do I want? A new world for us._

A day later, Enáretos, sent back:

_It shall be done._

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Rosie**

Fenrir was... well, he was a man of few words. From his penship and scrawled out lines on the letters he sent it was easy to tell he struggled with writing. Likely a combination of not receiving a proper education, and not having to use a pen in several years. His penship had drastically improved over the years, but it was blatantly apparent he would never feel comfortable writing out letters.

Which was fine.

All that mattered was that he was reciprocating this... friendship(?). Getting Fenrir behind the movement would be a major step in helping the werewolves. A monster by wizarding society was largely considered a protector by his fellow werewolves.

Except for the children he converted, but if I fixed the core issue no one else would have to be hurt. It was easy to hate a man and ignore the causes behind his actions.

I would not permit that shallow thought process anymore. Fenrir's deeds were terrible, but there was a cold justification for them. It was long overdue to correct it.

Werewolves deserved equality.

It was time they got it, and Fenrir would be exceptional helpful for me to make it happen.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Life at home was nice, I supposed.

Sirius had more good days than bad, and after one particularly nasty night with Remus all the alcohol in the house was confiscated. None had been in the house for a solid six months since then.

He was more of a man child than a parent. He was excited to play with us, read with us, and most importantly of all teach us how to fly.

Had Remus not suggested we would need interactions with children our own age before entering Hogwarts, I doubt it would have occurred to Sirius.

But how could that be managed, the men wondered out loud?

Harry and I had to stay out of the public's eyes for as long as possible to minimize our danger. Remus was the one who tutored us at home. We could not attend public school—too risky Remus and Sirius had said. But we should have _some_ friends our own age before being thrown into Hogwarts.

The solution?

I suggested we learned karate. Why? I had read about _super cool_ kung fu in a book and wanted to try it.

That immediately satisfied both men. They enrolled us in a large class with Muggle children our own age. It would give us a chance to socialize with other children, while also practically teaching us a good skill, _and_ encourage our athleticism. A good thing, too. Harry had only ever interacted with me, so he was cripplingly shy meeting other children.

It took a solid year of taking that class before he was even able to hold a conversation by himself with the other students.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Rosie, age 7**

At long last I had the money.

A part of me still felt a bit guilty from stealing—especially from perfectly nice places—but the guilt was shoved aside in favor of how the end justifies the means. I had never put my stock into that saying before, but I honestly believed my cause warranted a little flexibility with the law. I was, physically, a child. The idea of sharing my knowledge with the "adults" of the world sent me into a quivering mess that I knew I would never be able to reach out for help willingly. I could—I supposed—wait until I was physically an adult, but the idea of waiting around and letting others suffer for _decades_ because I couldn't handle a little rule-breaking made me sick. It seemed like a pretty flimsy excuse to me, especially since I could always purchase back the items I pawned off with my Potter inheritance as an adult and give it back to the museums. Or donate their value anonymously. Or steal them back.

Returning to the point, however.

I had the money.

Using Enáretos I purchased a _large_ stretch of land—nearly a thousand acres of land—and began to put well over half my sum of money into putting up defenses, and building empty homes and shops inside it. I hired people to build large concrete walls with barbed wires to discourage Muggles from trying to enter, and I ordered them to pave roads and plant trees. I ordered the construction of several dozen greenhouses and hired a handful of magical herbologists to begin growing the ingredients necessary for wolfsbane potion. I hired Gringotts to put up the best wards money could buy—and boy did they cost me a pretty sum, but I hoped it would be worth it.

The whole project would take a year, which would give me time to bribe the officials and press in preparation for what was to come.

I only hoped it would work.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

The first party I bribed was one of the neutral parties, led by Lord Greengrass. They sat squarely in the middle of most of the debates, barely swaying to either side unless it benefited them directly. I sent them pretty things and dangerous things. I sent Lord Greengrass precious gems I had personally stolen, and I knew his daughters would adore them. The party treated my bribes with no obvious response, likely waiting to see what I wanted from them. Through letters as Enáretos, I only hinted at wanting to build a sanctuary for several months. It wasn't until the leader of the party himself asked me directly what I wanted that I answered with care.

A sanctuary for werewolves.

I would pay for it, provide security for it, and handle the distribution of wolfsbane. It didn't need to cost their party a dime, and it would do nothing to harm them to support me. The party didn't care for what was right or wrong, they only cared about self-serving, and their families. So I painted them pretty words of how it would put their families at ease if all the werewolves were kept in a safe place, and not forced to run wild and risk random attack. I waxed gentle pictures of how my sanctuary could—in a few years of production—turn into Britain's largest provider of rare herbs and save the Ministry a small fortune in having to import.

I told them I would consider it a favor if they supported its construction.

And after a total of nine months of bribing, and wheedling, I had their support. Lord Greengrass even offered to be the one to put forward my proposed bill since I—Enáretos—would not be able to attend.

I accepted his offer with gracious thanks.

The next party I curried favors to was not nearly as hard to persuade. It was Madam Longbottom's party, the more Light-Conservatives. I knew she would take offense to bribes, so I skipped straight to a long-winded debate that lasted five months. Madam Longbottom didn't adhere to her prejudice of werewolves, but she didn't see the value in assisting them, either. Eventually, I was able to wear her down by arguing about how it was the ethically right thing to do in a manner that made her think of her lost son.

Low-blow, I knew, but a necessary one.

Next, I courted Amelia Bones and fellow law-lovers, using how practical it would be for her Aurors if the werewolves lived in one place; of how safer it would make the public, etc. She only took a month.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

_To my friend,_

_I'm sure you have already heard the whispers of my plan._

_Yes. It is true. I hope to create a safe haven for all werewolves to live in peace. I know it will take time for me to change society to fully accept those afflicted with the curse, but in the meantime, I wish to give your fellow brothers and sisters some peace. I will personally provide security for the establishment until such a time that they can provide their own law-enforcement inside. I have already set up several businesses that are more than happy to relocate and provide merchandise. I have two healers who are happy to follow their families into the sanctuary and offer their care, and one potions master—so far—who will brew the wolfsbane potion._

_I know it is not the solution you want, but I hope it will provide a safe space for until the time I have fixed society._

_I must thank you for your patience and belief in me, my friend. I have sent several more blankets and basic first-aid to help those you come across. Please enjoy the cookies I baked, as well._

_Your friend,_

_Enáretos_

_PS: Dolores Umbridge is a viable threat to my haven. It would be helpful if she could come to understand your situation better._

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

_To my friend,_

_Elena sends her thanks for the food, and my pack expresses excitement in the prospect of having a home. It feels strange to say, and had anyone else but you told me about it, I would not have believed. I have scouted the land, and watched them work for a few months now. I know those wards were not cheap, and the gardens look nice._

_Have you thought of a name yet?_

_Your friend,_

_Fenris_

_Before I forget, Umbridge has decided to take a long term vacation out of the country for a couple of years._

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

6\. Learn martial arts

7\. Recruit Fenrir

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to do double updates until we start at Hogwarts.
> 
>  **Answer:** Neutral!pureblood like Greengrass. Want the magic, not the politics.
> 
>  **Question:** Favorite magical creature? Be as specific as possible!
> 
> Reviews are **love**!


	5. Pre-School 5

**Rosie, age 8**

I wish Harry's story hadn't told us such a bias perspective against Fenrir Greyback. It was understandable, but regrettable, as it made me second guess a lot of interactions with Fenrir in the beginning.

Fenrir Greyback was an interesting penpal to say the least. The more we wrote, the better his handwriting got, and so the longer his letters became. He started to divulge little truths about himself that both surprised and humbled me.

There was not much information on Fenrir Greyback in the fandom. He was a werewolf that targeted families who were malicious enough to actively work against werewolves. His thought process was simple: _if there's a werewolf in that family, the politicians wouldn't be so against us._

Cruel, most certainly, but I could see how an uneducated, desperate man would make that conclusion. In some cases he was correct, and in other cases he was wrong. Certain families would rather kill, or cast out their cursed child, than change their viewpoints.

Fenrir, as I understood from his letters, had a very large pack that he struggled to consistently find food and shelter for. To my surprise, only a couple were those he had turned, and whose families consequentially abandoned them. Most of his pack were simply random stragglers that were cast out. Fenrir wasn't the only werewolf in Great Britain, and contrary to fandom belief he was _not_ the largest spreader of the lycanthrope curse. He was simply the only werewolf who showed his face and gave the public a name to hate.

Most alarming of all, he took credit for others' accidents.

It made sense in hindsight. His face was well known. If he was spotted in an area people were sure to be on guard, yet on certain full moons there was a new accident? And somehow _all_ of those accidents were tied back to Fenrir, even if they happened in multiple places at the same time?

Most of the conversions were done by abandoned children who didn't understand what to do. The children tended to run into Muggle homes to hide from the aurors and when the full moon rose... well. Mass conversion, which would lead to _more_ children running away until the next full moon and rinse and repeat.

He could find them on the full moon because werewolves could hear each other's howls. He had enough wits about him on the full moon to get the bitten families out of there when he found them. Then he'd leave enough trace of himself around to take credit for the attack, even though it was not his blame.

Do it often enough for a few years and even attacks on the opposite side of the country were blamed by him. Not that he did anything to correct it.

Infamy was still publicity, still _awareness_.

Forgetting werewolves was considered much worse by his standards.

His described "penchant" for children was another fandom myth. Children simply survived obtaining the curse better than adults... most adults died. Children also didn't have anywhere else to go, whereas an adult could try to make a living. So Fenrir ended up with an absurdly large amount of children following him around. In another world it might have been cute. In this world it was just... sad.

There wasn't exactly an orphanage to drop them off at (yet).

I didn't understand why the children survived the curse more often than adults yet. I had every intention of studying the lycanthrope curse. Hopefully my past life's knowledge as a medical student could be of _some_ use. At the very least it was better than doing nothing.

Fenrir's words were childish and short in his letters. He admitted he had never attended school and he was self-taught. He never had a house, never had a consistent meal, never had any kind of stability in his life.

It did not—it did not make what he did okay. Abusive childhood did not justify abusing others. Murder was still murder. Reasons would not excuse that. A life taken was a life taken.

_It's so easy to hate the man instead of the cause. It's so tempting to blindly hate instead of looking past that and fixing the core issue._

_Society makes the monster._

The more I interacted with Fenrir, the more I felt assured by that. Ever since I started reaching out to him _he had not attacked anyone._

Not once. There had been an attack in Germany that one of the Britain wizards made a cruel remark about, but Fenrir did nothing.

I was listening to him. I was paying attention to him and the werewolves and that was _all_ he ever wanted. His pack had consistent meals, clean clothes, and warm blankets in the winter. It was more than anyone—even Voldemort—had given them.

In between the words of his letters, I got the feeling of relief from Fenrir.

Like someone else had taken a burden off his shoulders.

It was odd, and conflicting. It felt like I was validating his wrong actions by giving him what he wanted, but I couldn't stop. Condemning an entire race for one man's terrible actions did not sit well with me.

What could I do though? Sit around and wait a couple of decades before I legitimately rose to power? That felt so much worse. How many more werewolves had to freeze in winter, and starve to death because I was scared of a man whose story I had only ever heard about from his enemies?

I wanted to help the werewolves. I had the wits and knowledge to do it, what reasons could I rationalize not to?

If I wanted any chance of building a safe environment for werewolves to live in, I _needed_ Fenrir on my side. I needed someone to be there in that community and vouching for it. I needed someone I could trust to work in the best interest of the werewolves while I attended Hogwarts.

At the end of the day, Fenrir was the one who took in the abandoned werewolves. Fenrir was the one they turned to. Fenrir would do _whatever_ it took for equality for werewolves. He would do _anything_ if it meant they didn't have to suffer another year of extreme prejudice and poverty.

I knew that like I knew the back of my hand. If I needed him to do something for the sanctuary, no matter what, he would do it.

If I needed him to kill again, he would. If I needed him to be patient and passive, he would.

That kind of commitment coupled with this already established connections and fame in the werewolf community made Fenrir invaluable for that goal. Even more so than my dear uncle, Remus.

Remus was a good man. A better man than Fenrir.

But he resented werewolves, and considered them a genuine danger even though he was one himself. And, worst of all, he was one of Fenrir's true victims. If I used Remus then Fenrir's entire pack would be impossible to bring in and Fenrir had the largest pack of werewolves.

Remus had a home. He had a guaranteed meal every night. He had us. He did not need the sanctuary like they did.

I could think loops around my logic to reach out to Fenrir. I had as many reasons to give him a chance as I did not to.

But in the end, I was glad I did.

Because the more I got to learn about Fenrir, the more I realized that if given chance, some men would rather be the heroes than the villains.

I was going to give him that chance.

Fenrir Greyback was not a good man.

But maybe one day that would change.

 **(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

With Hogwarts only growing closer it was time to to tackle the next section of my list.

Occlumency was a high priority. Kreacher had long since brought over the books on them that were stored at the Black library. The only thing that had prevented me from diving into them right away was my lack of free time. With the sanctuary secured—dubbed Lunar Orchid since I planned on turning it into a mass producing greenhouse, so they could make their own wolfsbane potions and sell enough to pay for their own other essentials—and an impressive fortune left over (only because I routinely stole from museums and the absurdly wealthy) my time could be spent learning the art.

I already had a good idea on what to do. Or at least an assumption on what to do. There really was no way to learn if it would work without having someone try to invade my mind.

Something I'd guess I'd experience the first time I properly met Dumbledore—since Harry and I were too young to officially have memories of him, I wouldn't count our time at Hogwarts.

Before that could happen I had to do everything I could to prepare.

Standard occlumency practiced the art of deflection—becoming a shallow pool that only revealed what the defender wanted to show.

But if fanfiction and Sherlock Holmes had taught me anything, it's that the mind is a powerful thing and there should be more than one way to defend it.

The books Kreacher brought didn't provide any reason my idea _wouldn't_ work, so...

I began nightly meditations where I would guide my magic in my mind to erect a proper mind palace. Yes, I was absolutely ripping off Sherlock Holmes because his mind palace seemed super cool. If there was even a chance to recreate it for myself, I was going to.

If only it was simple.

 **(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

The actual constructing of the palace was fine. After eight years of dedicated training I had enough control over my magic that pulling it into my mind was as easy as breathing. Organizing, constructing, and creating my mind palace was a genuine delight. From my castle I added a moat, a village surrounding it, a forest, and then I surrounded it by a black sea that reflected the night sky above it. Over time the details only became more refined and I started to add traps as I saw fit.

The ocean around my palace would act as my standard shallow pool, but if someone got through...

The palace was not only designed with defense in mind. There was something else I was curious about that I hoped to confirm in my second year at Hogwarts.

While making my mind palace I found something... odd.

Concerning, really.

I honestly had no idea how it could possibly even be there. I had no scar from the night of Voldemort's attack, nor did I sense anything _odd_ about my magic since then.

Yet somehow during my construction, I found something black, charred, and so definitely not _my_ magic. It looked like a smoldering egg that had been burnt to heck and back, but it pulsed with a heartbeat.

It was quickly stored away in the dungeons of my palace.

_I really hope that isn't what I think it is._

**(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

"Rosie," Harry called out to me, tugging on my gray cardigan. "Will you please read to me again?"

"Mm-hmm," I responded, sitting up properly on my bed. Harry had come into my bedroom without knocking—something I was used to—and carried a classic fantasy book Remus had bought him. I had read to Harry too many times to count previously. He was capable of reading on his own, however, he loved it when I read to him.

Harry, like canonically, was a quiet and well-behaved boy. He was pretty shy around new people, but once he was around them long enough he would start to relax. He was slow to make friends—he didn't have proper friends at our martial arts class, only people he liked to talk with.

All of that changed when he was on a broom. Playing mock Quidditch with Sirius brought out an aggressive, gleeful, and smidgen arrogant side of my brother. He had a talent for flying and boy did he relish in it. He was a right menace on a broom.

About the only way to get him to have a tantrum would be to try and pry him away from his beloved broom.

He was a good boy. A very good boy.

Our relationship was nice.

I certainly wouldn't call it a sibling relationship. Not in a traditional sense. I was mentally an adult and when our parents had passed Harry needed a more maternal role in his life. Sirius was a wonderful godfather, but the man was still heavily grieving when he took us in and there were some things he simply didn't know how to do.

It was I who tucked him in, who soothed his nightmares, who read to him before bed, who got him up in the morning and dressed, and so on. We didn't bicker with each other like siblings normally did. He did not view me as a peer, but as a maternal figure (even if he wouldn't verbally admit it).

I was his caretaker, much like Sirius.

I supposed I should count my blessings that no one in our little family knew my behavior and maturity was not normal. Sirius and Remus did not grow up in healthy, loving, and normal childhoods, so they had no reference. Harry obviously wouldn't know better.

Doing all those little things meant nothing to the adults—no one commented on it.

To them, it was normal that I had rapidly matured due to trauma and taken a maternal role for my brother.

Harry crawled into my bed. He handed me the book he had chosen for me to read. It was _The Hobbit._ Harry had become fond of Tolkien's writings, he especially enjoyed the voices I gave them.

I opened up to the chapter he had bookmarked—the forest with spiders—and began to read. With experienced ease I made my voice match with the scene and carefully retold the classic tale for the—honestly I had no idea how many times I had read _The Hobbit_ to Harry by that point. It wasn't a very long tale. The only thing that prevented me from finishing it to him every week was that making all the voices left me parched and raspy.

When my voice began to give out again—the heroes had reached the mountain—I coughed and placed the bookmark in. "S-orry."

Harry shook his head, smiling with sweetness. "Mm-mm. Thanks, Rosie."

I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Yo-u're we-elcome, dear."

A glance at my cat-shaped clock told me that it was near dinner time. I was about to ask Harry if he was ready to eat, but a thought occurred to me.

_That thing I found inside my head..._

My gaze drifted to Harry's scar.

"Ha-arry? Ha-ave you... ta-talked to a... sna-ake?"

Harry's face screwed up in thought. He was quiet for a minute as he seriously pondered my question then said, "In my dreams, I think!"

"Kreacher?" I tentatively called out.

Without hesitation the house elf popped up on my bed, ears flopping as he nodded to me. "Yes, mistress?"

"Do we-e have any... sna-akes?"

"Kreacher saw some in the garden. Should Kreacher bring one to the mistress?"

"Ye-es, please."

He was gone for barely thirty seconds before he reappeared and held out a little grass snake. It flicked out its tongue several times as it squirmed in Kreacher's hands. I asked Harry, "C-Can you sa-ay hi to it for me?"

"Hi," Harry told it.

 _That didn't sound like Parseltongue,_ I thought uneasily. From what the books made it seem like it was instinctive. Was he too young, or...?"

"Hi _,_ " I nervously told the snake. I didn't sound any different from how I normally sounded, either, but the snake stilled. Kreacher let out a gasp of surprise which instantly made my stomach drop.

"Whoa!" Harry said. "You speak snake?"

"Ssspeaker _?_ " the snake hissed out, its voice small and hard to hear.

"Mistress is a parselmouth!" Kreacher exclaimed, his tone elated as he hobbled on the bed closer to me. "A proper witch, yes, a proper witch!"

"Y-Yes..." I drawled out with a wince.

_What the hell does this mean?_

Harry definitely had the horcrux scar. But he didn't have the parselmouth ability? I did, though, which meant—

_Am I a horcrux, too?_

I couldn't discount that possibility. Given the circumstances when Voldemort blew himself up it wasn't terribly far-fetched that his shattered soul latched on to any and all living creatures within the vicinity. But, given how weak and tiny his soul was upon "death" the splinters didn't have enough substance to grant us equal horcrux rights.

I chewed on the inside of my cheeks in thought. Harry definitely had the scar, and I vividly remembered Dumbledore referring to him as the prophesied child while we were at Hogwarts. Harry _had_ to have a fraction of Voldewhore's soul—I simply would not believe differently.

But—

Was it possible I somehow took a fraction of that fraction?

Twin magic was such an unexplained thing. There really was no way to get around the fact that the Wizarding Community had no explanation for things that magical twins could do. Some could share a mind. Some could share abilities. Some would lose their magic if the other died. Some would absorb the other's magic.

It was illogical and random. With the lack of research put into learning about it, the only thing people could say when discussing twin magic was:

_Meh. Just magic, I guess._

So now—

_I've split the canon horcrux in two?_

That was the only logical conclusion I could draw. The pathetic little worm inside my mind palace was too weak to do much else but wither. My eyes narrowed in thought.

With the horcrux being weakened in Harry there was a good chance that Lily's protection wouldn't cause him pain when being near Voldewhore.

At that revelation I needed to reconsider how the heck to safely remove the horcrux without either of us dying. There was a solid chance that we _could_ receive a fatal blow and kick the horcrux out in our place, but I was reluctant to leave such a thing to chance.

Or, more likely, that kind of chance was only given to the prophesied one.

I sure as heck wasn't in any kind of prophecy.

Ha. Unless one conveniently happened after we had left Hogwarts so I'd have no way of knowing about it. How silly.

"Okay," I said out loud as I ended my thought process. "Di-inner time."

_And I guess I better tell Sirius and Remus I'm a parselmouth. Then when I tell them I'm planning on going to Slytherin it won't hurt as bad._

**(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

I was wrong.

For Sirius, me being a parselmouth was a snort and shrug.

Me declaring I planned on going to Slytherin, though?

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Sirius boldly declared at the dinner table. I had chosen to wait to break the news until _after_ I had eaten my fill so I could flee if I needed to. The very second I brought it up, Sirius had dramatically paled and he clutched at his chest as if he had a heart attack.

"Paddy," I whined.

"Nope. No goddaughter of mine will be a snake."

"But I have to," I protested. "Someone has to domin—I mean take control—I mean guide that house."

That elicited a raised eyebrow. "Come again?"

"Harry's _obviously_ going to Gryffindor," I said—to which Sirius firmly nodded—then I gestured to myself. "I need to go to Slytherin to keep them in check."

"I don't want to be in separate houses," Harry protested. "Why can't you come to Gryffindor? You're super brave."

Sirius was nodding again at Harry, his expression dark. "That house is filled with evil wizards and witches, Rosie. You shouldn't be anywhere near it."

"All the more reason to be in it! I can handle them."

"How?" Sirius snorted dubiously.

"I'm a Marauder's daughter, aren't I?" I challenged him. "Are you saying that _you_ can't prepare me to unleash absolute hell on any Slytherin who wants to hurt me? That you can't set me up for success when I enter the enemy territory?"

Sirius wagged a finger at me. "I know what you're doing, missy. You're trying to bait me. You think challenging my ego will make me give in?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're right. Weekend flying lessons are on hold for you, Missy—" I let out a sigh of relief. "—you're going to have to focus on surviving the focused attention of Padfoot. Avoid my traps for a year and dish it back. Not only will I give my blessing, I'll even buy you a stupid Slytherin scarf."

I grinned and held out my hand across the dinner table. "Deal!"

Oh, _God,_ did I regret that deal.

 **(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

**Five months later**

I was hiding in the attic from Sirius one Saturday morning. He already got me with a sneak attack at one in the morning and my hair was turned into an ugly shade of sickly carrot. I knew he would eventually find me in the attic, but I had to take the opportunity to regroup and plan my own counter attack at lunch.

Kreacher had helped me prepare a hidden clove in the far back corner of the attic. There was enough light coming out of the single window that I could properly see, but the way the shadows were stretched out would make it hard for anyone to find a crouched child.

"Mistress?" Kreacher popped up in front of me. "Kreacher found a familiar for mistress."

_Whoa, really?_

Since revealing my parseltongue ability I had expressed the desire to have a snake familiar. It made the most sense. Who wouldn't want to be able to properly communicate with their own familiar?

Of course Sirius wrinkled his nose up in disdain at the very thought, but Kreacher was over the moon. It took a solid month of buttering up Sirius and laying on the _I love you sooooo much_ (which I did) before he threw up his hands and said, "Fine! Do whatever! If it bites you, I'm feeding it to the stove!"

With that blessing I instructed Kreacher to, "Find me a familiar befitting a budding dark witch."

And apparently he did.

I shifted in my hiding spot to peer at the teeny-weeny snake in Kreacher's cupped hands. I let out a gasp of surprise when I noticed it had wings and—

"A baby dragonair," I whispered in awe, gently picking up the tiny little serpent. "Little one, are you okay?"

The little winged serpent raised its head to me, its scales changing colors with the way the light reflected off them. Its scales were iridescent—primarily white, but shifted to blue, purple, or pink depending on how the light reflected off it. Its wings were a pristine snow-white, and its eyes a pretty shade of blue.

Like my own.

I was Harry Potter's twin, but we did not look identical. He had James' wild dark hair and Lily's eyes, but I had Lily's dark crimson hair color with James' curls. My own eyes were blue like James, and unlike Harry, I did not wear glasses. Contacts only since I had to be ready for a brawl at any moment.

Harry was a black-haired green-eyed cutie, and I was an auburn-haired blue-eyed thief. The only thing we had in common were our curls.

The baby occamy flicked out an adorable black tongue. "Momma?"

My heart melted.

"I will be your momma," I whispered. "My little Iris."

And that was how I got an occamy for a familiar.

She was adorable.

I loved her.

"Thank you so much, Kreacher," I gushed, reaching over and pulling the House Elf into a big hug. "She's perfect."

Kreacher squirmed in my arms, but after a minute of hugging he carefully patted my back.

 **(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

8\. Learn occlumency (likely books at Black House Kreacher can get. Can't think of a reason why they _wouldn't_ have them)

11\. Get a familiar

**ƪ** **(˘** **⌣** **˘)** **ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenrir Greyback is interesting to write. There's a lot up for interpretation since we've only ever seen his story told through the perspective of his enemies. 
> 
> **Answer:** Occamy & kneazel are tied.
> 
>  **Question:** Favorite HP/Crossover?
> 
> Reviews are **love**!


	6. Year 1 - 1

**Rosie, age 10**

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL** **_of_ ** **WITCHCRAFT** **_and_ ** **WIZARDRY**

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. & Miss Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Yep.

That's right.

Hogwarts letters weren't individual for twins. What a ripoff.

The day our Hogwarts letter arrived Sirius slapped it on the fridge and told us to get dressed. Harry hurriedly put on his dark blue pants and gray sweater vest while I slipped on my dark blue dress and black tights. Then we put on our fancy black cloaks and wool hats—green for Harry and blue for me 'cause of our eyes. The hats were pulled over to make sure no one could see our foreheads. Mine was scar-free, however Harry wanted to match.

It was still summer, we couldn't get away with wearing scarves, but we could time our visit to Diagon Alley to be in the middle of the workday and avoid the crowd.

At nine in the morning he scooped us up and off we went via Apparition. Side-along Apparition was always unpleasant, but Harry and I had grown accustomed to it. On good weathered days, Sirius would bring us along on his motorbike. We were both small enough (for now) to fit in his side cart without fuss. On bad days—which happened fairly often in rainy Great Britain—we had to Apparate.

It was... not fun. Imagine stepping off a spinning ride without the rush of adrenaline and joy to counteract the dizziness slapped into your face. Disorienting was a severe understatement. The human eyes weren't meant to witness teleportation, yet even with my eyes squeezed tightly shut I could vividly picture the woozy-inducing scene.

Thankfully we landed with our feet firm on the ground in Diagon Alley, and we didn't lose our breakfast that time. The very second our world stopped spinning Harry gasped in wonder. Had I been mentally younger I would have done the same. Diagon Alley was a marvel to behold for those who had previously lived a life without magic. It didn't matter I had been growing up with magic for a little over a decade by that point— _it was still magic._ Shops ripped straight off the movie set lined up along cobblestone paths. There were sparkling trinkets, gadgets, animals, and so much more in the windows. There were shops never mentioned in the books or built in the movies—for example there was a shop dedicated to chests, bags, and other expandable storage! Magic filled the air and with every breath I took the world seemed brighter.

To be honest, the sheer volume of magic I felt was a touch overwhelming and I gripped Sirius's hand tightly to keep myself steady. He squeezed my hand in comfort.

The shopping district was busy, but not bustling like it would have been on a weekend. No one paid the small family any mind as they went about their business. They had no reason to suspect that such a "famous" trio would arrive and our disguises were plain.

It was a good thing. None of us wanted to be swarmed by paparazzi or rabid fans.

Sirius and Remus had told Harry and I the truth about our parents when Harry asked long ago. Sirius hated the idea of keeping their death a secret. He almost went along with Dumbledore's suggestion to keep our fame hidden, but Remus thought it would overwhelm us if we went into the Wizarding world so unprepared.

Their solution was to be nonchalant, so it was mentioned in an off-handed manner. They dismissed it, downplayed it, and did their best to trivialize the world's adoration of us. They wanted us to dismiss the public love—per Dumbledore's encouragement from what I guessed—so we wouldn't grow too big of an ego to manage.

Consequently: we _knew_ we were hailed as a hero, but Harry thought it was irritating and I didn't give a flying hoot. Harry resented his forced-upon hero status with a burning passion that was hard to explain.

"I didn't do anything _,"_ he would tell me in private, his tone laced with annoyance. "I'm not Frodo. I haven't had my adventure _yet_."

For Harry, his fame undervalued what he deemed to be heroes. Harry wanted a proper adventure of his own, on his own terms. The way he described it made me feel like he _knew_ he was going to have an epic quest to face down later in life.

...

He wasn't _wrong_.

Outside the owerly in Diagon Alley I pulled out the item list Sirius had handed me before we left. The three of us moved off to the side as to not disrupt the flow of the crowd.

 **HOGWARTS SCHOOL** ** _of_** **WITCHCRAFT** ** _and_** **WIZARDRY**

**UNIFORM**

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

**COURSE BOOKS**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Draughts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad*

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Iris, who had hidden under my shirt, poked her head out from my collar and hissed out, "Mommy, can I come?"

"Don't worry, sweetie," I soothed her quietly. "Paddy already got permission from Dumbledore. Familiars are allowed under certain circumstances."

Circumstances like being favored by the Headmaster.

To be honest, I wasn't sure if it was canonically correct that the exception existed in the first place, or if it was a rule made by Dumbledore just for me. Even if I was not the prophesied child, I was his twin sister _and_ I somehow magically got parseltongue while Harry didn't. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Dumbledore expected something of me and allowing me to keep my familiar at school curried favor to that idea.

Not that I disliked him for that. I was a schemer myself, so how could I resent another scheming comrade? Who knew... maybe I could even out-scheme the great Dumbledore.

_Yeah, right._

Iris let out a little trill of pleasure. Her noises ranged from a hissing snake to songbird and everything in between. She had clung onto me like an imprinted baby chick ever since I had first held her. It made me wonder if Kreacher had grabbed her right after she had hatched.

Wouldn't have surprised me. Kreacher was the sort to value what his master/mistress wanted above ethics or laws.

I might have felt bad for her apparent kidnapping, but that was largely dismissed over how much I friggin' adored her. I was at loathe with the very idea of being separated from her. We were always together since that day—our connection was so significant that we had even formed a proper bond. The only other person she allowed to touch her was Harry, and that was only for short periods of time when I needed to be alone.

"Alright kiddos," Sirius said, clapping a hand on both our backs. "Let's get fitted for robes first, books second, cauldron next, stop for lunch, get the rest of the equipment, and lastly wands."

"Can't we do wands first?" Harry eagerly asked.

"Nope. Rosie's already proven to be enough of a threat without a wand. I want to postpone her getting one as long as possible," Sirius said firmly. Harry sadly nodded in understanding.

"Hey. He started it. I just finished it," I defended myself.

Sirius winced, likely recalling the tic bomb I had hidden in his mattress. I was quite proud of that one. Kreacher was absolutely giddy with glee watching Sirius scramble to get the ticks off him. Remus not so much. He had to be the responsible adult and send Sirius off to the hospital while he watched over us and made me dismantle the other bombs I had hidden in Sirius's room during our year-long prank war.

"You deserve Slytherin," he muttered, but there was a touch of pride in his gray-blue eyes. "I almost feel sorry for the professors. Almost."

"I'll be good," I promised. Then at his raised eyebrow, I added, "I won't get caught."

"I wouldn't have believed you if you meant _good student_. Good terror is more like it."

Harry giggled at my pout.

With a path set we headed off. For the most part we adhered to it, but if Sirius or Harry spotted something shiny or cool they detoured us into that shop to examine it. It resulted in Harry getting several new toys, books, and Hedwig. I was able to grab a very expensive potion set with ingredients priced in such a way they made me wince, but Sirius didn't even bat an eye at the money spent.

It was evening by the time we had reached our most anticipated destination: the wand shop.

The building was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A bell chimed as we entered the store. It was a scene straight out of the movie with walls filled with boxes of wands. There were towers upon towers of boxed wands scattered all around. Ollivander noticed us immediately and the old man with wide, pale eyes greeted us with a soft, "Good evening."

"Hello," Harry and I said together.

"Ah yes," said the wandmaker. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you two soon. Harry and Rosaline Potter. It seems only yesterday your mother was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

He approached Harry first. The boy froze up and instinctively stepped back into Sirius who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it—it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. And hello, Sirius. Good to see you in good health. Your wand—thirteen inches, firm, ebony—has clearly been well cared for."

I nudged Harry forward, and he hesitantly stepped back up to Ollivander, a quiet signal for him to have his wand chosen first.

"Well, now—Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er—well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

While the tape measure was measuring between Harry's nostrils, Ollivander was flitting around shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. Ollivander grabbed a different one.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try—"

Harry tried—but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Ollivander.

"No, no—here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. _And tried_. A solid—not even exaggerating here— _forty five minutes passed_. The pile of tried wands was comically tall on the spindly chair, but the more wands Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere—I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand as he glanced over at me with discomfort. The more times he had failed to produce results, the more uncomfortable he clearly became. A considerate boy by nature, he must have hated that Sirius and I were waiting on him.

He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Sirius whooped and clapped while I whistled and Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..."

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry visibly swallowed, reaching out a hand to grasp my own.

Sirius stepped in there, clearing his throat. "Now I believe it's Rosie's turn."

"Yes! Yes, yes. Twins. I do love pairing twins. Twins always have the same core," Ollivander muttered to himself as he busied among the boxes. "Phoenix, phoenix, phoenix..."

He pulled out a long red box and handed it to me. "This one for sure. Yes, I know this one will do for someone with eyes like yours."

A little concerned about spending another hour in the store, I tentatively picked up the wand and gave it a little flick.

To my elated surprise white sparks popped out of the tip and danced all around me. The wind picked up and gently pulled on my hair. There was a rush of magic from the wand and it eagerly reached out to my own magic to greet me. I couldn't hold back my silly smile as I felt the wand's magic intermingle with me.

 _Do wizards know their magic basically holds hands with their wands' magic?_ I wondered. Due to how I learned how to use magic I was acutely sensitive to it. I could not see it, but I could feel it like a second appendage after years of blindly working with it.

"Redwood with a phoenix feather core, nine and a half inches and hard flexibility," Ollivander touted. "This wand is attracted to one who already possesses an admirable ability to fall on their feet and snatch the advantage from a catastrophe. A sly one, aren't you?"

Redwood had been my second guess. I would have thought for sure I'd nab the Beech due to having, you know, _died and been reborn_. Guess I wasn't considered _wise beyond my years_.

Unless the wands could sense how old I truly was?

 _Hello, little one,_ I thought, channeling a touch of my magic into the wand and feeling it react with warmth. Although it had no voice to respond to me with, I could sense it greeting me with adoration. _You and I are going to do a lot of different things. Dark, Light, and everything in between. Are you ready?_

If wands could cheer, my baby redwood would be howling.

_I'll call you Muse._

"Welp," Sirius said with a clap. "Let's head home kiddos."

 **(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

13\. Get THE Hogwarts Letter!

14\. Shop at THE Diagon Alley!

15\. GET A WAND!

**ƪ** **(˘** **⌣** **˘)** **ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next Thursday for the start of Hogwarts!
> 
>  **Answer:** HP/Sherlock. Specifically, war vet asexual!Harry retires to Muggle London and gets swept up by cases and becomes Sherlock's favorite mystery. Also like the Hermione versions, too, but wholesome friendships are my vibes these days.
> 
>  **Question:** What wand would choose you? This may help: www DOT wizardingworld DOT com / features / what-does-your-wand-mean
> 
> Reviews are **love**!


	7. Year 1 - 2

**(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

Come September 1st Harry and I were as ready for Hogwarts as we could be. We had read through our books—twice—and impatiently waited for the first day to arrive. To call us excited would have been an understatement. Harry was practically frothing at the mouth at the idea of being able to try out for Quidditch. Even if first years weren't allowed their own brooms, there was no rule explicitly saying they couldn't try out. Most just didn't make the cut.

In between the prepping for Hogwarts and managing my alliances as Enáretos time flew by.

On September 1st Harry and I were up before dawn with our enchanted suitcases packed. Kreacher made us an extra yummy breakfast before Sirius even had the chance and promised he would stop by Hogwarts to pick up any urgent letters—Kreacher had been the one to send out my letters as Enáretos all these years. I couldn't exactly start using Hogwarts owls, could I?

Once breakfast was done Sirius Apparated us to the platform.

It was glorious.

A shining scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, ten o'clock exact. Sirius had a hand on each of our shoulders, and he leaned in between us to say, "You sure you're both ready?"

"Paddy," we whined.

"'Cause I can hold you back a year. Remus is perfectly fine to keep tutoring you—"

" _Paddy_!" we cried out. I let go of my suitcase, it stood perfectly upright on the paved walkway. I turned around to properly hug him for all he was worth.

"You trying to snap my spine now, Rosie?" Sirius teased, giving me a tight hug in return. Harry shifted from foot to foot between as Sirius got the hint and pulled him into our embrace.

"Love you," I told him with all the sincerity I could manage. "Promise to take care of yourself and Uncle Moony."

"I promise," Sirius said, but I didn't wholly believe him. He was a man child at heart, after all. I ordered Kreacher to make sure there was no alcohol in the house while we were gone and Kreacher assured me he would make sure of it.

"I'll write as soon as I get sorted," Harry promised him.

"I expect it," Sirius said in return. "Now off you two go."

We pulled back, each of us grabbing our suitcase. There was a compartment where other children were piling their own suitcases. Thankfully ours was enchanted for extra storage, durability, lock strength (mandatory if I was going to be a Slytherin), and light-weight. Not cheap by any means, but it was well worth it when we could easily slide our suitcases into the compartment and not have to worry about it in the slightest bit.

Harry brushed back his curly dark hair out of his eyes. Remus had tried cutting it, but it always grew back the next day. "Let's go find a seat."

"Okay," I agreed. I followed behind him and onto the train, staying close. We found an empty compartment somewhere in the middle of the train, and we took opposite seats from each other. We had a carry-on expandable bag that we used to pull out our entertainment and wands.

We weren't allowed to use our wands since retrieving them. Not that such a rule really stopped us. The Ministry only monitored homes with Muggles in them, not homes with magical adults. Despite the fact I was able to perform wandless magic, having a wand was like switching the difficulty from nightmare mode to easy mode. A real breath of fresh air. I never wanted to go without again.

I would.

But I didn't want to.

Harry pulled out his worn _The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring_. "Who you think will sit with us?"

"No clue. Hopefully future friends," I said with a shrug as I pulled out my own copy of _Deadliest Draughts and Drinks._ Iris poked her head out from under my shirt, quizzical eyes looking down at the book. I asked her, "Do you want to read with Mommy?"

"Yesss," she hissed out, sliding out entirely to be able to properly sit on my lap. She stretched out her snowy white wings and yawned.

We still had an hour of peace before the train was ready to depart. About forty-five minutes into our quiet reading session the door to the compartment slid open and a bushy-haired brunette poked her head inside. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Please help yourself," I said, patting the seat beside me. "You don't mind familiars, do you?"

Hermione Granger—no way that bushy haired belonged to anyone else—perked up at the mention of a familiar. Her dark gaze immediately zeroed in on the occamy in my lap. Iris straightened up and let out an adorable trill at Hermione who smiled widely in return.

Hermione didn't hesitate to sit down beside me, her eyes sparkling as she eagerly asked me, "Is this your familiar? What's her name? What is she?"

"Her name is Iris, she's an occamy," I answered Hermione. "I'm Rosie, by the way, and that's my twin Harry."

Harry shyly waved at Hermione.

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione introduced herself, offering a hand to myself—which I shook—then to Harry. "That's amazing you have a familiar. I didn't see that an occamy was on the list of allowed pets."

"Familiars can be the exception to the rule," I told her. "Iris is only a baby and can't be separated from me for too long. Our magical bond could break."

"Oh!" Hermione said, eyes lighting up with understanding and a burst of curiosity. "That's fascinating. How do magical bonds form? I haven't found much of anything about familiars in our texts."

Harry quietly answered her, his grip anxiously tightening on his book, "Magical bonds form when a witch or wizard connects with a magical creature. Most bonds develop over time and exposure. S-Some bonds become strong enough that the creature turns into a familiar."

"Is there a difference between a magical creature bonded and a familiar?" Hermione asked, turning to face the red-faced Harry. I was proud of Harry for joining into the conversation on his own accord, but his social anxiety made it clear he was uncomfortable.

He stumbled over his words for a few seconds. "F-Familiars die when their witch or wizard die."

Hermione let out a quiet gasp at that.

"You must be Muggle-born?" I probed, wanting to steer the conversation away from the death of my baby girl Iris.

"Yes. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard—I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough. Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad."

"Gryffindor for me I hope," Harry answered with a shy smile.

"Slytherin for me," I said with my own smile. It wasn't a nice smile. Sirius liked to call it my: _You-got-that-from-dark!Lily-smile_.

" _Really_?" Hermione peered at me with narrowed eyes. "I've heard a lot of things about Slytherin."

"Yes. I'm planning on fixing that," I said. I had to steer the conversation away from that as well. "You said you've already read through the texts? How about we quiz each other on the way down?"

Harry perked up at that. "Can we start with charms?"

He was determined to be the best at charms since that's what Sirius always told us Lily was best at. The whole being-the-best-Seeker-in-the-world took priority over everything, but charms was a definite second.

If Hermione smiled any brighter she would put the sun to shame.

 _What a cutie,_ I thought with fondness. I had a soft spot for sweet kids. Made me want to baby them. It was a little strange to see Hermione Granger in person yet really neat as well. I knew she'd grow into such a remarkable and powerful young witch, but I couldn't think of her as anything other than a child. I was mentally an adult and she even still had some baby fat on her cheeks. Totally adorable, but it felt the same as when I called Harry a cutie.

As if sensing I was calling someone other than her cute, Iris nipped at my fingers.

 **(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

The ride down to Hogwarts was pleasant. We were only interrupted one time by Neville looking for his toad. It went without saying I told him to ask a Gryffindor prefect to Accio the thing. Accio was one of my go-to spells and the poor dear looked in near tears trying to find it. He fervently thanked me and went his own way.

We never met the Weasleys on the way down, nor did Draco Malfoy come looking for us. While I was sure Draco knew we were on the train, he was likely too prideful to go knocking compartment by compartment to look for us. Canonically the Weasleys had advertised where Harry Potter was to nearly every student on the train.

The train slowed down and finally stopped. People pushed their way to the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry and I shivered in the cold night air. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and we heard a deep booming voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! Anymore firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, we followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was terribly dark so it was impossible to see what kind of path we were on. Nobody spoke much.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

Hogwarts.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Hermione, and I headed to one of the boats together. I helped both of them into the boat, making sure they were safely seated for the journey. I would have hated if either of them fell into the water on their first night at Hogwarts.

 _Not the kind of change I would want to make from canon,_ I thought dryly to myself.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then—FORWARD!"

The fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as a mirror. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; we all bent our heads and the little boats carried us through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. We were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to take us right underneath the castle. Eventually we reached a kind of underground harbor where we clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

The students climbed out of the boats with an air of trepidation and excitement. We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge oak front door.

Hagrid assessed the group. "Everyone here?"

He seemed satisfied to believe that because he turned back around, raised a gigantic fist, and knocked three times on the castle door. The door swung open at once.

A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and it was impossible for me to not grin at her. The only down side of sorting myself into Slytherin was the lack of Professor McGonagall in my life.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she said thinly, her tone clipped and firm. She was exactly like I had imagined her in the books. Most of the people I had seen thus far were very accurate to their book descriptions.

Professor McGonagall pulled the door wide open. The entrance hall was so big our house could have fit inside it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing us led to the upper floors. We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. I could hear the quiet chorus of hundreds of voices talking all at once from a doorway to the right but Professor McGonagall guided us into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We crowded in, plenty of children standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

It was _so_ adorable to see the students all bright-eyed and innocent.

Any less restraint than I already had and I might have gone around pinching their cheeks and cooing at them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on certain unkempt students.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry huddled closer to me, his fingers barely grazing my own as he fought the reflex to hold my hand. I went ahead and gave his hand a comforting squeeze which he gratefully returned.

Then several people behind us screamed. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

"Waiting for Professor McGonagall," I politely answered.

"Ah!" Nearly-Headless Nick exclaimed.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned.

One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

I took the lead at the start of the line, Harry right at my heels with Hermione not far behind. We walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

 _Oh._ Hogwarts was everything I dreamed about and more. There was no memory I had to compare it to, no words to do it proper justice. The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. Those tables were covered with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up there, so that we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

I looked upward and saw the famous velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. I couldn't hold back my sigh of admiration. Hermione whispered beside me, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_."

Honestly, being able to step foot inside _the_ Hogwarts in person elated me to such heights I felt ready to tackle any problem before me.

More than that, I felt that I would _win_ any problem before me.

It was going to be an interesting year to say the least. I had spent years planning for my debut in Slytherin with Sirius's help, but I knew things did not always go according plan.

More than that—

My eyes drifted over to Professor Quirrel.

A sharp surge of cold anxiety cut through my elation and for a moment I was back in that crib staring at glittering red eyes completely insane with power.

Those eyes.

I had never put much belief in how eyes were the "windows to the soul" or how people could "see it in their eyes." Admittedly, my past life marred my viewpoint on a lot of things, but how could anyone expect _those_ eyes.

Voldemort's eyes were not the eyes of a man, but of a crazed monster disguised as one.

The very idea of having to see those eyes made me nervous, but as I stood in Hogwarts and took in its majesty I felt reassured.

Maybe, just maybe, things could work out.

_If everything goes according to plan I won't ever have to see those eyes again._

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was patched and frayed and filthy and _God_ I loved it.

For a few seconds there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing:

" _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on!_

_Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became still again.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

On the list went. Everyone went to their expected Houses and like in canon when it was Harry's turn to be called the hall went silent. He was under the hat for a few minutes before it bellowed out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted into the loudest cheers thus far as Harry joined them.

It was my turn next.

I gave Harry a smile—he returned it with a nervous one of his own—then took a seat. The hat was placed upon me and its raggedy voice echoed in my head.

"Eh? First one like you I've seen," it said. "Old soul, the things you have seen are better left forgotten, don't you agree? You should let it go."

_Let what go?_

"Only having surface memories is fine for now, but I hope when you have all the pieces you'll choose to let it go. Now what to do about your placement? I see you want Slytherin. You certainly have the ambition and cunning for it. But your thirst for adventure and bravery would make you aptly suited for Gryffindor."

_C'mon, don't be an ass. Slytherin pretty please with a cherry on top._

It laughed. "Alright—SLYTHERIN!"

I doubted anyone who didn't know me expected me to go to Slytherin. There were certainly some slack-jaws as I confidently strode over to the Slytherin table. I took a seat beside a grinning Draco—as if that platinum blond hair could belong to anyone else—resisting the urge to mess with his neatly combed blond hair.

"Hello," I greeted with a charming smile.

"Welcome to Slytherin, Potter," Draco said, holding out a hand. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

I accepted his hand. "A pleasure. I look forward to rul—I mean—getting to know you all."

_Poor kids._

There was definitely evil laughter in my head.

 **(** ≖ **‿‿** ≖ **)** **ノ⌒** **●~***

See you next Thursday!

**Bucket List Completed:**

16\. Get sorted into Slytherin

**ƪ** **(˘** **⌣** **˘)** **ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone caught that certain bucket list numbers have been skipped. Yes, it is intentional. I have a literal bucket list document and when things happen they get crossed off. Some bits of the list will take longer to complete than others.
> 
>  **Answer:** Probably hazel with unicorn core.
> 
>  **Question:** What House would you want to be in?
> 
> Reviews are **love**!


	8. Year 1 - 3

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

The first dinner was lovely. The trip to the dungeons was marvelous. I constantly glanced about in wonder at _the_ Hogwarts castle. I was walking in THE Hogwarts. Could you believe it? _THE_ HOGWARTS. My jubilant attitude wouldn't falter throughout the trip to the dungeons. Professor Snape warily eye me several times and I could feel the faint probes of his legilimency attacks. The only thing he saw was my black sea, and from his increasingly frustrated glowers, I knew he knew _I knew occlumency._

He also knew I was raised by his hated enemy, Sirius Black.

_He definitely suspects me of being a potential hellion._

He was absolutely correct. The amount of sheer pain and suffering I was going to inflict on these baby snakes would be remembered for decades. I was going to be Queen of Slytherin and my subjects were in desperate need of discipline.

How could I refuse?

_Was it wrong that I was enjoying my plans so much? Maybe I shouldn't get too invested in the RP._

The Slytherin common room was _such_ a mood. The stone walls had gothic architecture (which I had to guess was redesigned in the gothic era since that style definitely didn't exist pre-Hogwarts) and had a relaxing greenish-blue tint over it since the windows were literally windows to the black lake. It was super cool to have underwater windows and see little things swimming around out there. There was a roaring fireplace with green fire and white leather couches, and— _ugh_ it was amazing.

If the Gryffindor common room was comfy and cozy, then the Slytherin common room was classic evil wizard.

Little sad there wasn't a human skeleton chair.

_Note to self: make a human skeleton cha—no. Make a throne out of human bones._

Professor Snape promptly dropped us off at the common room and left before I even had a chance to start teasing him. It was neat that the other Houses had their Head of House lead them. Professor McGonagall was too busy as the Deputy Headmistress to do so.

The Slytherin prefect was a witch named Gemma Farley, and she had pointed out the girl and boy halls, and that each student had their own room. Before anyone was about to head off I cleared my throat. "Excuse me? Could I have everyone's attention?"

"Ooooh. The great Potter wants our attention," mocked one of the upper years.

There was some laughter.

I smiled a type of smile that would have made Sirius turn tail and flee.

"There are going to be changes around here," I said quietly with my chilling smile and forced steel into my tone. Children of Death Eaters or not, they were still _children_ , and _I_ was an adult who had been meticulously planning my takeover of Slytherin for nearly a decade. I was prepared to face their worst opposition, and while my repertoire of spells wasn't nearly as vast as the upper years, I was _damned_ determined to succeed.

It would be a trial, most certainly, but I was prepared for it.

Harry would have enough to deal with. I would not allow him to have to worry about being stabbed in the back while at school. Plus I had some of my own goals for the Slytherin House.

Prejudice had to be adjusted slowly, carefully, and thoughtfully. I couldn't brute force equality without drawing blood, and earning resentment for the sake resentment. If I received too much resistance, I could end up causing more harm than good in the long run.

I didn't have high expectations for the upper years, but I could start with my own year group and work down.

Before that though, I needed power. They needed to respect me and value my opinions. I wasn't sure how Tom Riddle was able to take over Slytherin with no magical training, no money, and no power to his name, but surely _I_ could do it when I had all of those things?

My words drew some stares, but the upper years merely scoffed and turned away. Draco paused, and he turned to face me fully. His guard dogs followed suit, and soon all the first years, and many of the second and third years were facing me.

"You'll have to clarify, Potter," Draco told me, his gaze assessing.

I lifted my chin high. I hissed in Parseltongue, "You're an idiot."

That immediately drew some looks of surprise, and the older students turned back to me with cold eyes. Iris squirmed under my clothes, but she knew better than to reveal herself to so many people without my order to do so.

"Slytherin House has fallen to pathetic standards. We are the House of _ambition_ , yet all I see are _morons_ who bully lesser years because they're too pathetic to fight their equals. Even worse, _everyone_ knows it's you and the only reason you're not expelled is because of Snape. Where is your cunning, Slytherin? Where is your ambition? For the past decade, half of Slytherin graduates disappear into nameless thugs and nobodies quickly forgotten. The other half? Barely scrape by unless they live off of their family's money. Who, in the past decade, has contributed? Has arisen to proper ambitious heights? Our Minister is a Hufflepuff, when for the past century it had almost always been a Slytherin!"

My words drew glares, sneers, and looks of anger from all of my housemates.

"And _you're_ going to fix that, you bloodtraitor?"

I let out a hiss again, and a few students cringed at the cold sound. "It's simple. Act like morons, and you'll be properly punished. Snape won't save you anymore, because Dumbledore will _never_ expel _me_."

A bluff, I was certain he would draw a line as need be, but they had no way of knowing that.

One of them let out a mocking laugh. "Let's see you try. It's _us_ against _you_. You're nothing but a Mudblood lover, and you won't ever be able to change us."

"We will see," was all I said.

I pushed past all of them, headed down the girl's hallway and entered the room with my name already scrawled on it.

I did not sleep that night. When the clock struck two in the morning, I slipped on my invisibility cloak and I got to work.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

As I didn't sleep that night, I was the first one out in the common room. Dressed for the day and with a big smile on my face I patiently waited for my fellow housemates to leave their rooms.

I had two lifetimes of pulling all nighters, adding another to that list didn't phase me. At least I was young enough to have the energy to spare.

One by one the baby snakes started to leave their rooms.

And with each one exiting their room a scream filled the hall. The first scream made me cackle to myself and I knew it caused confusion. Another rushed out, got caught by my trap, and off went another one.

Each student—except the first years—were targeted. A trap was set up outside each of their rooms. No trap was the same. For maximum psychological impact, they needed to see exactly how vast my abilities could be. Granted, well over half of them were actually designed and made by Sirius in the past year. I was decent enough, but Sirius's imagination and experience had me beat.

The first one who made it to the common room was a seventh-year girl who was covered head to toe in sticky worms that wiggled and stank so foul it made her gag with each step. She saw me lounging casually on the couch, and she shrieked, "POTTER!"

It was a stampede. They all came rushing out to me, each victim displaying how they were caught in my traps. When one stepped too close to me, he set off the defense trap I had prepared beside me and was launched away.

"Oh my," I tauntingly laughed at them. "How far Slytherin has fallen."

Their outrage was music to my ears.

I wasn't sure who took out their wand first. It didn't matter.

As soon as the first shot was fired—I reflexively ducked underneath—I pulled out one of my sleeping bomb potions and released it. I held my breath as I sprinted out of the gas before turning around and casting, " _Bulla dome!_ "

A low level charm to make a large bubble to trap a gas. It would stay up as long as I powered magic into it and could easily be popped. It didn't matter, because the students who had been raring to attack me breathed in the sleeping draught.

It was doubtful any of them had ever faced proper opposition, given their lack of ability in dealing with me. With the DADA position cursed they lacked education, and with too many students cowering from them, they lacked experience. I'd be willing to bet most—if not all—had been coddled by their parents and never had to deal with many obstacles in their life.

A shame. Learning to lose was an essential life skill.

They were out like a light.

It wasn't meant to be a heavy-duty sleeper. Only enough to knock them out for a couple of minutes, but that was plenty of time to gather their wands and lay them out flat on the table. In one hand I held my own wand, and in the other I had an ax.

So those sweet baby snakes woke up—still covered in gunk, goo, slime, or bugs from the traps—and saw me grinning evilly over their wands with an ax.

The word _terrified_ felt too weak to describe their expressions.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Now, in any other House I would have been reported.

In Slytherin?

It was an unspoken rule that no one reported anyone during a power struggle.

In that one morning, I demonstrated a bit of my power.

They would not tattle to a teacher. It was a war between students, and most importantly of all, how could they ever admit to an adult that a _bloodtraitor_ was besting them?

It was their turn to show me _their_ power.

_Who will rule Slytherin?_

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Aside from that energetic start my morning was rather calm. The first-year students saw the aftermath—Draco had the courtesy of entering the common room as I cackled over the older students with a raised ax—and wisely did not try to bait me. If anything, they were outrageously polite to me.

Draco must have had some instinct deeply ingrained in him through his Malfoy genes to stick to the powerhouses, because he literally walked right past everybody on the floor and offered to escort me to the Great Hall.

What a sweet child.

A brown-nosing sweetie pie.

Not that I could blame him. It was in his best interest to befriend me. Either to backstab me later on, or to reap in the benefits of being friends with Slytherin's new queen. Just good common sense on his part.

It wasn't hard to spot how flustered he was—he didn't even wait for his bodyguards. He had stumbled over his morning greeting to me and his skin was noticeably paler.

He tried to hide it, but he was still a child. A scared one at that.

"Very kind of you to escort me," I praised him, making my tone gentle. There was a reason I hadn't targeted the first-years, after all, and I kept the second-year traps to very minor things like mildly annoying smells and changing their hair color for an hour.

It was too cruel to go all out against children. Still, kind of cruel to target the teenagers, but I could live with it. I had to make a stand in order to make a difference. For children who had been groomed in sadistic prejudice I could not afford a soft hand.

I couldn't go too hard, either. Even if they were children with over a decade of prejudicial conditioning, they were still _children_. Their brains hadn't even finished developing. It would be pointlessly cruel to use the full extent of my adult mind to bully them.

I didn't have a torture fetish like Dolores.

Ugh. _Dolores._

That was one witch I'd hide all the water from if she was on fire. What a horrible woman. I'd jump for joy if her death was posted in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow.

Now that might turn some heads. After all, I gave the _terrible Fenrir_ a chance... shouldn't I have done the same to Dolores?

Giving Fenrir a chance directly helped my cause with the werewolf community. Giving Dolores a chance... gave me nothing. There was no logical gain to it, nor any rational explanation. At best, I could claim moral high ground but who the fuck cared about that in a fight for revenge, survival, and fixing a broken society?

Dolores was vile and useless. There was no reason to keep her alive, let alone offer her a chance at redemption.

If anything she was the most dangerous opponent at play. When I moved on to my plans for the Wizengamot I simply could not allow her to interfere. Her ability to manipulate the political landscape was dangerous.

_I wish Fenrir actually killed her. Why did she have to escape the raid?_

Was the power of Plot™ keeping her alive, or was she supernaturally lucky that night?

Whatever it was, it wouldn't last. She might have fled the country but she'd come crawling back. Cockroaches always came back. The moment she returned I'd deal with her, even if I had to do it with my bare hands.

I was not going to sit by while some hag tried to kill my family. I wasn't a baby trapped in a crib anymore. I would keep them safe.

"O-Of course," he stammered, swallowing and trying for a confident smile. It looked like barely put together false bravado.

"Do you like snakes?" I asked him, wanting to change the subject to something he would feel more comfortable with.

"Yes," he answered honestly, the easy answer making him relax enough that he stopped clenching his hands.

"Come say hi," I hissed quietly—he flinched.

Iris popped her out from under my collar, pretty blue eyes sparkling as she nodded to Draco. "Hello."

Draco's eyes widened with childish delight. "Is that an occamy?"

"She's my familiar," I said, slowly pulling her out in order for him to see her. "Would you like to pet her?"

The ten-year-old boy couldn't hold back his excited smile. He reached out a hand and with great care he patted the top of her head. She let out a trill. "She's—she's very pretty."

"Thank you. Her name is Iris."

"Hello, Iris," Draco said. "Did she—did she help you do that stuff?"

"She kept me company," I answered. "Don't worry, I have no intentions of targeting the first year group. As long as you behave, I have no reason to punish you."

"Behave how?" Draco uneasily asked.

"No bullying anyone in the first or second year group," I said. "They're too young and won't know enough to defend themselves. If you do choose to... deal... with someone from another House don't get caught. You have to successfully put the blame on someone else. We need to get rid of the easy target on Slytherin's back."

Draco nodded along with me. I couldn't be sure if he was in agreement, or simply nodding to acknowledge what I said.

"The older students... they're going to get you back," Draco pointed out.

I laughed. "Oh. They're gonna _try_."

_A queen who can't outwit all of her subjects isn't worthy of her title, after all._

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Oh.

They tried.

They sure did try their best.

From Monday to Thursday it was a constant back and forth. They tried to hide behind the corners to surprise attack me but Iris could smell them from down the hall. They tried to set their traps but their inexperience gave them away and most failed to trigger on their own. They tried to come up with some kind blackmail, but they couldn't find anything that didn't just make me howl with laughter to their face.

Thursday night the fifth-years ganged up and tried to start an all out war with me in the common room.

They fell prey to a homemade flash-bang grenade and a lot of solid Somnums (the low-leveled version of Stupefy) that I likely wouldn't have been able to perform without a wand. Thank you, so very much, for existing my beloved wand. Oh, how much easier my life would have been if I had my hands on you sooner.

Meanwhile, my onslaught of attacks and booby traps had not let up. Only when someone came sniffling to me about promising to be good did I relent in my attack.

I would not stop until each of them were ready to kneel before me.

With all of that I knew their loyalty wasn't bought. Doing that kind of attack only cemented their fear of my retribution. They would have to reassess their strategy and put on a smile and show just for me.

Which was fine. As long as they obeyed my orders, over time, I would properly change them.

As I waited I relished in the chaos that was a child's war.

I wondered what that said about me.

Was I more traumatized witnessing Lily's murder than I initially thought? I had compartmentalized that memory with my death, so I couldn't tell. It wasn't the healthiest way to cope, but I felt like it would be a waste of time to confront it. Time that could be better spent helping my family survive and completing my list of wishes.

War aside, though, being at Hogwarts was a sincere delight.

We got to study the night skies through our telescopes every Monday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week we went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with an adorable dumpling of a witch called Professor Sprout, where we learned how to take care of all the magical plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Herbology was quickly becoming a favorite of mine and I eagerly raised my hand for each of her questions. I think Professor Sprout might even have started to like me, despite being a snake.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic though. Professor Binns was as monotone and sleep-inducing as described. It was best to self-study on my own time and use that class period to nap.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He looked exactly like his movie counterpart in the later movies which honestly surprised me. He had such an excitable and charismatic way of speaking that when he taught the whole class couldn't help but listen.

Professor McGonagall was just... ah. What a lady. I loved her. I wished she was my grandma. Strict and clever, she gave us _such_ a talking-to the moment the class sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. It got a lot of _ooos_ and _aaahs_ and it was clear that the class was excited. Excited up until they realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. It was funny to see their faces fall.

After taking a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match to try to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only I had succeeded due to my completely unfair advantage over the other children. It was hard to take pride in being a good student when I was literally an adult who had been practicing magic for years prior.

But, ah, that smile from Professor McGonagall made my day.

_Please let me adopt you as my grandma._

The class most people had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but it was a stinky joke. All I could smell was the garlic he kept on him to try to hide the rotting flesh of Voldewhore in the back of his head.

It was interesting to note that I felt no pain when we locked gazes, nor did I sense any attempts of legilimency from him. It was possible Quirrel wasn't able to perform legilimency, and I had _no_ intentions of directly interacting with Voldemort to test if he would try to read my mind.

The very idea of meeting that horrid mad gaze made me shiver in disgust.

I wondered, as I sat in that class, if his diary counterpart had an equally mad gaze?

_I'll find out next year._

Friday was the first class I had with Harry since we started Hogwarts—double potions with Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Harry had taken a seat beside Hermione Granger—I was surprised that he didn't sit with Ron who had instead sat with Seamus—while I sat in the next desk over with Draco.

Draco had become more comfortable around me since introducing Iris. And, you know, not attacking him like I did the other students. In fact, he started laughing _at_ the upper years who foolishly had not given up to me yet. It was an innocent boyish laugh that I hoped I'd get to hear again. In a lot of ways he reminded me of Harry. A more coy version of my twin, perhaps, but kind in a lot of ways. He was especially sweet to Iris, and he loved to feed her. Anyone who treated my baby girl that well got brownie points in my book.

Professor Snape entered his potions classroom with his billowing cape behind him. It was a beautiful and dramatic entrance and I mentally applauded him. He did roll call, not pausing over the name Potter like he canonically should have.

Since he had a Potter in his own Slytherin house, was he trying to restrain himself, or...?

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but everyone caught each spoken word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech.

I was honestly on the edge of my seat like Hermione. Potions was always going to be my favorite class. Biology and chemistry had been the only things I were good at, the only things I was ever praised at. I had spent nights alone in my room re-reading articles and textbooks to try and comprehend things faster than my peers. Studying chemistry and biology were the only things that I could do in my free time, and so they were the only things I could "enjoy."

Only things she allowed me to "enjoy."

Here, as Rosie Potter, that knowledge turned into genuine curiosity. When Remus got me my first potions textbook and we made our first salve together it was—it was beyond wonderful. It was fascinating, invigorating, and it ignited a passion inside me I didn't know I possessed.

I wanted to understand the "science" of magic.

I devoured the books Remus got me over the years and a new idea came to me. One of tantalizing delight that no other witch or wizard had even _attempted_. It was that idea that ultimately spurred me into action to creating harmony with werewolves.

It was my dream—no, _my goal_ —to perfect the werewolf "curse."

By that, I meant I was taking a page out of a video game my old friend had played prior to her passing. Some artwork of the creatures shown in that game looked absolutely wicked, and I had one as my phone background for several years. That creature was a worgen.

I wanted a worgen army. Start up a city named Gilneas and slowly take over the world with those perfected worgens at the front.

I was serious.

I genuinely wanted an entire country filled with worgens, magic, and equality. One where they didn't have to hide magic away from the world. Wouldn't it be so fantastic if the magical society could join their knowledge with science and use it to advance medicine and improve the lives of so many people? Just imagining it... blew my mind.

Not wholly certain I _could_ make that a reality—that seemed dangerously close to wanting to take over the world. It was a funny thought. Perfecting the lycanthrope curse and having an entire city filled with worgens seemed perfectly within my reach. Country and world, maybe not so much.

But I couldn't do any of that without mastering chemistry, biology, and potions! So Potions was going to be the class I went out of my way to excel in.

Plus Professor Snape's flair for drama was _such_ fun to listen to. It felt like I was in a theater class with a professor who loved his job. Professor Snape didn't love his job, but he clearly admired potions. And, you know, Professor Snape was a fan favorite for a reason.

We stan our greasy-haired drama baby even if we didn't encourage his toxic one-sided love. Maybe if he lived long enough he'd find a way to healthily cope with Lily's death and find happiness!

"Mr. Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry jolted, blinking rapidly as he processed the fact that he was called upon. "U-Um—I don't remember, sir."

Professor Snape's curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything. Miss Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

_Ooo, I get to be called on?_

"Belly of a goat, sir!" I chirped, elated to be called upon. I was honestly afraid his hatred of me, coupled with his desire to never harass a Slytherin, would result in him flat out ignoring me forever.

"Expected response of a Slytherin."

 _OOOO. Do I get to be_ praised _by him, too?_

Man, that put a big smile on my face.

"Mr. Potter, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry reddened as he shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. "Um... th-they're the same, sir?"

"That should not be a question," Professor Snape snapped at him, dark eyes glittering with anger. It bothered him that Harry could answer one of his questions. Or maybe he was putting on a show for the sake of his Slytherin students.

With that introduction out of the way, though, it was time for the Potions lesson to properly begin. Professor Snape put us into pairs and instructed us to mix a simple potion to cure boils. Considering I had been doing potions with Remus for years by that point—and a lot of experimental stuff on my own on nights when I couldn't sleep because I kept hearing James' and Lily's screams in my head—the cure boils was a breeze.

Draco was doing very well, too. He needed little guidance from me, and when I praised him he admitted he loved doing potions with his mother which I thought was just absolutely adorable.

Our potion actually warranted more praise from Snape who touted us as the ones everyone else should try to strive to match.

_The praise from being in Slytherin is great for my ego. Thanks, Professor Snape._

The lesson ended rather well—ignoring the fact that Neville's potion exploded and Professor Snape somehow blamed Harry.

You know, a part of me wondered if he was nicer to me because I was Slytherin, or because I looked more like Lily? Harry was a spitting image of James minus the eyes, but I was a spitting image of Lily with Jame's messy curled hair and eyes. Since I kept my hair up in a bun no one would really find out exactly how crazy my curls got. As far as Professor Snape could be concerned I was a dead ringer for his childhood friend-turned-unrequited love.

Hoped it was the Slytherin thing.

The weekend came like a breath of fresh air.

And by that I meant the old Slytherin babehs tried to dogpile on me Saturday morning in a desperate attempt to tame me.

Oh, the dearies.

I worked up a sweat dispatching them in the common room. There were a lot of onlookers who blearily drank morning tea as they watched the mayhem that was desperate bullies wanting to retain power. Because they were trying to physically restrain me they had a hard time using their wands against me. Namely, anyone who tried to shoot off a spell ended up hitting their comrade because I'd jump behind them and use them as a meat shield.

Their lack of experience in hand-to-hand combat didn't benefit them, either.

They were bigger, though, and physically stronger.

But I had the wandless, silent, Accio, and Wingardium Leviosa at my disposal, with a speedy Somnum added to the mix. I couldn't perform Somnum wandlessly, but give it a year or two and I'd get there.

_Beautiful spells. Never will I want to live a life without you again._

Within forty-five minutes I triumphantly stood, out of breath, sweaty, sporting several dozen cuts across my body, and with a bloody nose, over a heap of weeping babeh snakes.

"Kneel to your queen, peasants," I cackled, high off my victory.

To my embarrassing surprise the traumatized first and second-year students did exactly that.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

17\. Taunt Slytherin

18\. Cause Chaos in Slytherin

19\. Wait for Slytherin to snap (I have bet Kreacher that they will Crucio me, and Kreacher says they will be smart enough not to do something so obviously illegal) **Note: I have lost the bet with Kreacher. Damn it.**

20\. Dominate them through sheer power and intimidation

21\. Become Slytherin Queen (fuck your lord shit, queen is better)

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babehs.
> 
>  **Answer:** Gryffindor obvs. Ravenclaw suits me better, but I could never miss a chance to roll with the Weasley twins. My inner Lilly would never forgive me to pass that up.
> 
>  **Question:** How would you spend your free time at Hogwarts?
> 
> Reviews are **love**!


	9. Year 1 - 4

**Beta: Cloudy**

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

With the power struggle (temporarily) over, I could offer them the carrot instead of the stick. After I had mercilessly crushed their expectations of being superior to me that lovely Saturday morning, I sent out a letter to Kreacher to prepare the carrot for the Slytherins. Kreacher was such a happy boy about being able to spend some money I collected as Enáretos in order to reward the Slytherins for their submission.

Come Sunday morning at breakfast there were more owls than usual that carried a couple dozen brooms.

Nimbus Two Thousand brooms, of course.

Said brooms were dropped off at our Quidditch player's sides with a note reading:

 _To my loyal subjects_ ,

_Your Queen._

There were gasps of envy from the Gryffindor table as the Slytherin Quidditch players ripped open the packaging for the brooms. One by one they shouted in surprise upon finding their gift which drew more stares over at the Slytherin table. As Slytherin's Captain, it was Marcus Flint who let out the loudest victorious shout when he found his broom. He held up his new broom like a trophy.

"TO OUR QUEEN!" he shouted.

" _TO OUR QUEEN_!" echoed the rest of the fanatic Quidditch players, each of them holding up their brooms. It was an uproar of approval. Even those not on the Slytherin Quidditch team joined in on the cheering. A few of them started to toss smug looks over at the envious Gryffindors who glared jealousy at the shiny new brooms.

Harry caught my eye from across the room and offered me a pitying look.

 _You had to bribe them?_ I could practically hear his disapproving tone.

 _Shut up. I do what I must._ I stuck my tongue out at him, and he rolled his eyes.

The cheers of joy and jubilant taunting from my table was infectious. I couldn't resist smiling in return as I was surrounded by the elated Quidditch team who fervently thanked me.

"Now, now, dears, we shouldn't make too much of a scene," I said as I laughed. "Eat your breakfast first. Destroy the other teams later."

"Long live the queen," whispered Marcus Flint as he caressed his broom like a newborn.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Sunday evening I was on my way back to the dorm from the library when two red-haired twins popped up on either side of me. I offered the Weasley twins a wane smile. I kept up my pace, not faltering as my footsteps in the stone hallway were echoed by their own. I did assess them, half wondering if they were about to exact revenge on me for giving the Slytherin Quidditch team new brooms. The other half of me wondered what they wanted from me if not revenge.

I had hoped I'd get a chance to run into Harry at the library, but I didn't see my twin there. I'd need to set aside some time to check up on him and schedule when we should start our morning runs together. I didn't know what his actual schedule would end up looking like with Quidditch practice because _duh_ , he'd obviously make the team.

The duo were cuties. They had the adorable freckles just over their noses and upper cheeks, the sparkling blue eyes, and the messy-yet-combed ginger hair. In my previous life I would have had a crush on them (assuming I was the same age as them, of course).

Being mentally adult made it impossible to find any children attractive. Only cute like flowers or puppies. I wanted to scoop them up in a big blanket, give them some warm lemon tea, and have a nice platonic cuddle fest.

_God, I need a dog. Or a ragdoll cat._

I could get away with abruptly cuddling with Harry since we were twins, and he craved physical affection as much as I did. Doing it with two boys who thought of me as a stranger? Definitely not okay.

 _I bet if I had a fluffy animagus form I could get away with cuddling all sorts of people,_ I thought. _I hope I can turn into a fox. Or a cat. Everyone wants to hold a cat._

The longer I stayed at Hogwarts the harder it was not to hug everyone.

_I think I need to find Harry soon for some snuggles._

"What can I do for you two fine gentlemen this evening?" I inquired, trying to think about where I might run into Harry later. Maybe I could talk to him after potions. I gripped the books in my arms tighter against my chest. Iris stirred from her napping in my pocket robes. She poked her head out, peering up at the twins who hadn't noticed her yet.

"Word on the street is—"

"—a queen has appeared in Slytherin."

"A very generous queen," added the one on the right.

"One who gifted her entire Quidditch team with some fine brooms," concluded the one on the left.

I mockingly batted my eyelashes as I feigned ignorance. "My! Slytherin sure is lucky."

"Yet, this generous queen wouldn't do the same for her own twins' House Quidditch team," bemoaned the one on the right.

"We feel it is in our duty to help sort this out," insisted the other one.

"Odd that this queen's brother isn't asking for her help," I observed as I fought back a smile. It amused me that they would try such a blatant attempt at getting free brooms. I doubted either of them expected it to work. More than likely they would do an obligatory attempt so they could say: _Well, we tried to ask nicely! We really had no choice but to put spiders in her food._

It's something I would do. Sirius wouldn't bother giving them a chance, he would skip straight to mayhem.

The twins were kinder than Sirius in that regard. I loved him, really I did, but he had a mean streak in him that even I couldn't break.

Not to mention I very much didn't believe for a second Harry would bring up the broom situation to anyone in his House. He had the savings to buy a couple of excellent brooms, but not much else. He had spent most of his allowance money on books, candies, toys, and practically everything Quidditch related.

We each had our money, and neither of us lectured the other how to spend it. Harry certainly wasn't going to start to do so now.

The twins gave me a Cheshire Cat grin.

"But," I said, endeared by their grins and presence, "the queen is generous enough she might be willing to grant a _couple_ of favors."

The twins exaggerated a flourishing bow to her.

"How could we—"

"—earn such a favor?"

"Proper introductions first," I said. I placed both books in the air with a whispered _Leviosa Maneat_. Then I held out both my hands. "I am Rosaline Potter, but my friends call me Rosie."

"George Weasley," introduced the one on the left as he took my left hand.

"Fred Weasley," introduced the one on the right as he took my right hand.

Identical twins meant I couldn't visually tell them apart.

Magically was a whole other story.

I gripped their hands in a firm handshake as I felt their magic. Both were playful and coy, but George's magic was warmer while Fred's had more energy. I wouldn't be able to tell them apart without touching them for a while, but it was better than nothing. I committed the feeling of their magic to memory.

Withdrawing my hands I said, "I won't give the _entire_ Gryffindor team new brooms, but you two are up for debate."

In synch, they frowned and raised an eyebrow at me.

Due to the fact that I was currying favor with Slytherin, I would never gift the entire Gryffindor team with new brooms—and enough extra brooms to train backups—but I was fond enough of the twins I'd be willing to toe the line. They were in my top five of beloved characters from the franchise, after all. Seeing them in person only emboldened my affection for them.

Why, you could even say I was a fan of theirs. I couldn't indulge my desire to randomly hug them, but surely I could support them without fuss?

Simply giving them gifts would draw suspicion. Worst case they would assume I had some kind of sneaky plan up my sleeve given my House. They might even take it as an insult if they perceived it as a charity. The only way to be able to support them without bruising their egos, or drawing unwanted attention would be to set up what they perceived as a mutually beneficial trade—and eventually partnership.

"I need a way to sneak in and out of Hogwarts without catching the eye of Filch. Such information is valuable enough to me that I'd be more than willing to spend a bit of my allowance," I told them with a smile. Which was definitely true. Sirius told me how to do it, but it wasn't like I had a map of the castle. "Deal?"

"Deal!"

"But, you both have to keep this deal between us," I warned them. "I can't have my fellow Slytherins finding out, now can I?"

They nodded in understanding, their smiles only stretching wider. Maybe they thought they could blackmail me. If they did, I'd have to start a pranking war with them. They might've had the map, but I had the cloak and the ability to sneak into their dorms when they slept.

 _Although,_ I thought quietly to myself as the twins cheerfully headed off, _a pranking war with those two sounds absolutely delightful. Maybe another year. I have too much work to do for now._

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Next Thursday it was time for flying lessons with both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Since taking my role as leader of the Slytherins I lead the group. Pansy Parkinson had been one of the more eager snakes to stay beside me at every opportunity. Her morning compliments were crude yet kinda adorable. Completely fake, but she was trying her darnedest and that's what made it cute.

I couldn't resist pinching her cheeks when she got too energetic in her flattery.

"Flattery is nice, but overdoing it makes you come across as insincere. You should reserve your compliments for the opportune moment," I coached her on the way to flying class. "Try to only flatter someone once a day."

"O-Once a day?" Pansy spluttered.

"And no insults outside the House for a month," I added as an afterthought. "From all of you. We need to change the Slytherin image and so far none of you have impressed me with your insults enough to justify using them. They're boring."

"What about Mudblood?" Vincent Crabbe asked, the child repeating the word without much thought.

I rolled my eyes. "That's the dullest one. Oh no! Mud! I'm _so_ offended. It's been overdone, too. We need more creativity. Such as: apologize to your parents for being born a moron."

"That's brilliant," Pansy flattered me.

"That's your compliment of the day Pansy," I reminded her. She _tsk_ 'd under her breath, her expression darkening into annoyance.

Daphne Greengrass stepped past Pansy to take her place at my side. The pretty strawberry blonde slyly suggested, "What about: _each breath you take is a waste of air?_ "

"Very good," I praised her. "Yes, these are the types of insults we should aspire to use instead of relying on one stereotype. We're better than that. On the weekends let's gather in the common room and practice our backhanded compliments and insults."

"Will we practice our flattery?" Pansy asked.

"But of course! Remember my dears: a proper Slytherin is silver-tongued like Salazar. That means we should be able to direct people to hell in such a way they will look forward to the trip."

The ten-year-old children clapped in excitement.

 _Little babeh snakes remind me of babeh ducks,_ I thought. I clenched my hands tightly into fists to keep myself from reaching out and starting to pet them. They all still had their baby fat on their cheeks so every time they smiled at me it took considerable restraint not to go _awww._

At three in the afternoon, the Slytherins had arrived onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

There were twenty-one broomsticks lined up neatly on the ground and each Slytherin took a spot next to one. Draco had cleverly sped up past Daphne and Pansy to take the broom right next to me—as I had picked one on the end—and it warranted glares from both girls. He made a face at them in return.

The school brooms were… well they were certainly old. Worn down, rickety, and looked to be a solid gust of wind away from splintering. Frankly, I didn't feel wholly safe to use them.

The Gryffindors hurried out onto the ground half an hour later. Harry took a spot opposite of me—he cheerfully greeted me—and Hermione stood beside him. To my surprise, Ron was still nowhere near Harry. Judging from how Harry talked with Hermione and Neville it honestly looked like the classic trio might be no more.

My face screwed up at that thought. I didn't have my heart set on keeping this canonical, but it genuinely surprised me that Harry didn't bond with Ron again. Even without the train ride introduction, the two were dear friends originally.

_But this Harry isn't the same Harry._

The Harry before me was a shy, quiet boy, and not naïve to the Wizarding world. He didn't lack confidence either. He knew what he wanted: adventure and books. Not necessarily in that order.

Hermione's friendship with him was expected. They were practically the only book-lovers in Gryffindor aside from Percy. Neville was a pleasant surprise, but I could understand it. Neville's demeanor likely made Harry feel at ease. Harry always preferred the calm boys at martial arts over the hyped up ones.

_Still… I hope he can become friends with Ron in this life, too._

Ron was a boy who meant well. He had a lot of self-esteem issues that I worried would only grow worse if he _didn't_ join Harry on adventures.

_Or maybe not?_

Maybe not being so close to Harry would prevent him from constantly comparing himself to Harry.

I also had to acknowledge that there might be one more reason Ron and Harry weren't bonding. Or, really, why I only saw Harry bonding with those two instead of the other boys in his year.

The reason being: me.

Slytherin had a reputation, and I knew that Ron had his own prejudice against the House coming in. If he had made any kind of remark against me being Slytherin to Harry…

I didn't have a lot of faith that Harry would be mature enough to forgive that.

Of course, all of that was merely speculation. Harry and I hadn't had a chance to privately talk since coming to Hogwarts. When I saw him, he seemed genuinely happy with Hermione and Neville so I didn't feel compelled to pressure him to talk to me.

As long as he was happy and healthy, there was no reason for me to interfere. Children had to learn how to deal with relationships—good and bad—through their own experiences. Or, er, that's what I was told during one stint in the pediatric ward.

_He does look happy. Gosh my brother is the cutest when he smiles._

Indeed now Harry was smiling extra adorably at me. He gave me a little wave of _hello_ which I returned.

The teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived before I could speak to him. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone, stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.

I warily looked down at the school broom.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

My broom leaped into my hand at once, as did Harry's and Draco's. Hermione's had rolled over on the ground while Neville's hadn't moved at all.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. She eyed my grip. "You're gripping it like you're prepared to race against time, Miss Potter."

 _More like race against cops,_ I privately thought, correcting my grip.

The aurors had definitely been tailing some of my other heists. I had hung around under the invisibility cloak to see if I could pick up some information. As it turned out the use of my magic did _not_ trigger the use of underage magic.

The Trace was applied to wands, and prior to that accidental magic only registered if a large enough of magic was used—like blowing up a human into a balloon. Alohomora did not count as accidental magic, neither did Wingardium Leviosa. _Accio_ , on the other hand, _did_. It was powerful enough that it confused some aurors who had arrived as to why accidental magic had been registered at all.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle—twelve feet—twenty feet. Oh, the poor baby's horrified face just about melted my heart. Neville's let out a small whimper as he lost his grip and slipped sideways off the broom.

With reflexes that came from having almost accidentally dropped millions of pounds worth of artifacts (repeatedly), I raised a hand and levitated him straight to me. Instead of falling on the ground, he fell—er—stumbled into my arms.

"Careful now," I soothed the shaky boy. While his feet were on the ground his legs weren't working properly, so he fell down.

"How about you take a rest now Neville," Madam Hooch advised. "Come here, boy."

Gently, Madam Hooch helped Neville back to his feet and off to the side.

"Sit out this lesson," she told him. "Rest of you: on my whistle—three—two—one!"

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

The following Saturday morning at the Slytherin table we—and by we, I meant everyone in the House of Slytherin—was hard at work writing down creative insults that did not rely on the standard dull tropes like Mudblood. Only two insults per person and after dinner that night they were going to read them out loud and the House would vote on who had the wittiest one. The winner would be given a special prize—a choice between a cash prize, or the right to request their Queen to inflict wrath upon someone of their choice for an entire day.

Not only would it give the babeh snakes experience in the beautiful art of insults, but the winner would naturally become more fond of me when I gave them something of value.

Oh!

And the target of their insults for the first week?

Me.

A proper insult should be tailored for the person, after all.

Everyone would get a chance to be the focus of the insults. It was important to learn how to handle insults directed at oneself in addition to inflicting them. I knew from canon that certain Slytherins could be very hot-headed and that simply wouldn't do.

I was confident that a lot of the older students heavily resented me still, so it would also serve as a productive way to vent that anger.

I gulped down the last of those delicious scrambled eggs before I got up from my table. Draco and Daphne both moved to follow me, but I gestured for them to wait.

"Finish your food first," I chided them like a parent would a child. "I'll be right back."

With a skip in my step, I went up to the professor's table and stood across a grumpy Professor Snape.

"Good morning Professor Snape," I greeted.

Professor Snape lowered his newspaper and warily eyed me. "What do you want, Miss Potter?"

"As you may have heard we'll be having an insult night in the common room tonight," I said. "As a master of wit and insult, I believe everyone would learn ever so much from you if you would kindly take the time to come and insult me."

There was a pause. The other professors were looking over at me with incredulity. Dumbledore's eyes were extra twinkling in amusement. Professor Dumbledore couldn't seem to resist asking, "Miss Potter, are you requesting that Professor Snape insult you?"

"Yes. We're practicing our insults tonight," I explained. "The over-reliance on the, ah, _m-word_ is appalling. Next weekend is backhanded compliments! Would _you_ like to join us, Professor Dumbledore?"

"As thrilling as that sounds I'm afraid I'm somewhat lacking in the, ah, wondrous art of insults," Professor Dumbledore responded, his tone light and warm. "Thank you, though."

I nodded and turned back to Professor Snape with an expectant smile.

Professor Snape blearily stared at me as if I were a venomous creature about to bite. "If it is insisted upon."

"Oh, I do insist," I insisted.

"Very well. I will grant you the honor."

"Yay."

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**How Insulting Nights Worked:**

I sat comfortably in the honorable Roasting Throne which was moved to the front of the common room. All before me were overly excited babeh snakes with giddy smiles and little giggles escaping them.

"Who shall go first?"

"Allow me to," Draco eagerly said, hopping up from his seat on the couch to stand before me. He made a grand motion of clearing his throat before he boldly declared, "Dementors would starve if they tried to kiss you."

"Ooooo."

I snapped several times, a big smile on my face. "Yes, beautiful. Snaps for Draco everyone."

The Slytherins snapped. We didn't clap. Clapping was for rambunctious Gryffindors. We were cool, so we _snapped_.

"A fine way to begin. Five points to Slytherin," Professor Snape praised quietly from his dark corner across the room.

_Wow. If he's gonna start giving out points for good insults Dumbledore may not even be able to award Gryffindor the House Cup this year. Heck yeah._

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Answer:** Potion practice & library. Honestly I would be so in love with magic I would be outrageously studious.
> 
>  **Question:** Favorite ghost?


	10. Year 1 - 5

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Harry met me at the library early in the morning the next weekend. We took a seat in the far back so we wouldn’t disturb others with our conversation. In hushed tones and whispers we caught each other up with everything that had happened so far.

Harry had (unsurprisingly) made the Quidditch team. He was disappointed he couldn’t use his personal broom, but he was such a talented and experienced flyer that he could compensate. He would actually have to attend practice later that day. 

Hermione, he had said, was also a Tolkien fan. She wasn’t as avid of a reader of fantasy as he was, but she appreciated the classics and since finding out she was a witch she had been going back and comparing the Muggle archetypes against reality. Harry went on to say that she was easy to talk to because she always waited for him to finish speaking even if he started to stutter which he really appreciated. 

Neville had ended up in their group after one of the other boys teased him about  _ his  _ stutter. Harry didn’t specify who had mocked Neville, and when I asked he pointedly looked away and mumbled for me to not have to worry. It’d be a lie to say that it didn’t bother me, but I knew that was only because I was protective of my brother.

“ _ You’re  _ not the one being bullied, are you?” I seriously asked, pinning Harry with my stern gaze.

“They haven’t said anything bad about  _ me _ ,” Harry mumbled, and the emphasis on  _ me  _ told me students were harassing others. At my expectant look he reluctantly added, “Some boys can be gits to Hermione and… you.”

“Ignore what they say about me,” I told him. “You standing up for your friend?”

“Every time I hear it,” affirmed Harry, raising his chin up in pride. 

“Good. They ever cross a line…”

“I know.”

I smiled, reaching forward and sweetly kissing his cheek. “Love you, Harry.”

Harry grinned, abashed. “Love you too, Rosie.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

“What have we here, Gred?”

“I think it’s a lost little snake, Forge!”

Once again I was on my way back from the library when I was greeted by two charming twins. I couldn’t hold back my chuckle of amusement as they flanked me. 

_ What oh what could they want now?  _ I wondered. 

“Good morning handsome men,” I praised as I shifted my grip on the textbook I had checked out. I had to continue my studies in runecrafting. Independent studying was difficult to do, but I had little options. Runecrafting was an essential foundation to crafting rituals and I had a feeling that rituals and potions would play a key element in creating my worgen army. 

“Handsome men she calls us!”

“We  _ are  _ pretty handsome.”

“Careful though,” George joked, “we were just gifted two Nimbus Two Thousands by an anonymous witch who  _ also  _ called us handsome men.”

“Called us  _ the  _ most handsome men on the Quidditch team and that’s why we deserved proper brooms.”

I exaggerated my fake surprise by gasping and placing my free hand on my cheek. “Oh my word! Competition already?”

That made the duo laugh, and I giggled along. There was an undeniable air of charisma and charm that they exuded, although each a bit different. The more times I encountered the twins, the easier I could feel their magic. Fred’s magic was a firework; an explosion of power and joy. George’s magic was a bonfire; a steady powerhouse of warmth. 

“Say,” I did a little twirl in my steps, so I could turn around and face them both properly. “Would you two like to join me in a little self-study?”

They made a face.

“Hear me out,” I said, holding up my free hand. “It’s for wards. Specifically how to sneak past them.”

Now they were each raising an eyebrow at me.

“Sounds pretty sneaky,” observed Fred.

“Very suspicious,” agreed George. 

“What makes you think  _ we  _ would be interested in that?” they coyly asked together.

I innocently glanced away. “No reason, of course. I merely thought it was an interesting skill to have.”

“And Hogwarts’ Library just so happens to have books on how to do that?” 

“In the Restricted Section,” I said with a devilish smile. I liked to imagine that my own eyes must have been twinkling with dark mirth. 

The gleam in their eyes showed their interest. Even with the map, the duo couldn’t sneak into the restricted section since there was the magical equivalent of security cameras in place. Only someone with  _ the  _ cloak of invisibility (Deathly Hallow grade, naturally) could hope to do so. 

“I find that having a couple of study buddies makes it a lot more bearable,” I added, trying to give them a solid reason as to why I was inviting them. In truth, it was only because I wanted to spend more time with them. “And I bet I know the perfect spot to hide the books and study. A spot even you two don’t know about.”

“A spot  _ we  _ don’t know about? Show us this spot—”

“—and you can count us as your study buddies.”

“It’s called The Room of Requirement,” I told them with a pleased smile. “Follow me.”

Learning runecrafting was the basics of ritual crafting…  _ and ward breaking _ .

The ritual crafting was for my future worgen army. 

The ward breaking was because I had every intention of turning my thieving ways on the unsuspecting Death Eater supporters. If so many of the opposition found themselves without the wealth and power to oppose me, well… all the easier to destroy them. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Two months slipped by in the blink of an eye. 

Between classes, homework, tutoring the Slytherins in insults and compliments, studying runecrafting and wards with the twins,  _ and  _ keeping up with morning exercises with Harry (Hermione and Neville had joined us per Harry’s request) my time was delightfully devoured. October well and truly snuck up on me and it forced me to reassess my plans. 

October meant a few things.

One: Halloween was coming up.

Two: It was starting to get too chilly to go for morning runs with the new golden trio. 

And three: I needed to start thinking about what the heck I was gonna do with the Philosopher's Stone. 

The only thing I knew for certain was that I had to keep it out of Professor Quirrel’s hands. I had hoped to let bygones be bygones and watch over Harry as he had a heck of an adventure his first year but damn it. Remus raised him too sensibly. Harry hadn’t gone to the third corridor at all, and he had no desire to do so.

“Why would I want to go there when Professor Dumbledore specifically said not to?” Harry had asked me during our morning run around the lake when I brought it up. 

It was important that we both remained in shape to continue our mixed martial arts training. We had packed matching black tracksuits that we slipped on before dawn to start our morning runs. We had even packed a few extra per Sirius’s suggestion in case any of our Housemates wanted to join us. 

A good thing, too. Harry gave Hermione a spare lilac purple one, and Neville an extra dark red one. 

“Because adventure?”

“Uncle Moony would kill me.”

“But adventure.”

“Uncle Moony  _ would kill me _ .”

“But… adventure?”

“You shouldn’t... be encouraging... Harry to... break... the rules,” Hermione lightly scolded me as she tried to catch her breath while jogging with us. Her frizzy hair only grew frizzier as she exercised. She had it pulled into a ponytail but the frizz had grown so powerful it looked like a puffball at the back of her head. 

Poor Neville was so out of shape he had collapsed earlier on in the run. He got farther than his first week, but he had a ways to go. 

_ Well shit,  _ I thought to myself. 

“Why don’t you do it?” Harry asked me. “You’re supposed to be the queen of chaos, right?”

“I guess,” I bemoaned. “Someone’s gotta.”

“ _ No one has to! _ ” Hermione said shrilly. 

“It’s our destiny. I’ll fulfill it on your behalf, Harry.”

“Rosie!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Thanks, Rosie,” Harry cheerfully thanked me. “Let me know if it’s worth dying over. I’ll die with you.”

“ _ Harry! _ ” Hermione looked so betrayed. 

“Hermione you’re too adorable,” I said. “Can I hug you?”

“Only if you promise not to go into the third corridor!”

“Damn it.”

“ _ Language! _ ” Her voice was a new level octave. She could have shattered glass, I bet. 

Honestly, October was quite a dilemma. I wasn’t even confident  _ I  _ could complete the puzzles to get to the stone because my chess skills were barely above average. Yeah, I could beat Sirius and Remus but that wasn’t saying a lot. Ron was a budding chess prodigy who bested Professor McGonagall. I couldn’t lay claim to that skill. Everything else I could probably handle, but the chess?

_ Ehhhhh _ .

I knew Voldemort wouldn’t be able to get the gem out of the mirror, but, like… what was stopping him from running off with the entire mirror and hunting down someone who  _ could  _ get the gem out?

He had to be stopped. The world wasn’t ready for his resurgence. All my plans would have to be tossed out the window if he showed back up. My worgen army might never come to fruition and that was simply unacceptable. 

_ Gilneas. Will. Happen. Nothing will stop me from getting my fluffy cuddle buddies.  _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The first weekend of October I had to spend it in the library. Well, first, I had to sneak away from my loyal subjects. It was cute how they followed me, but they needed to be able to independently act. 

They were doing good. Very good. Insult night was a big success and last week I didn’t have to reprimand anyone for using blood purity as an insult. There was no gossip of Slytherins bullying the other Houses, and the overall atmosphere of the House was, dare I say it,  _ optimistic.  _ From what I could gather the Slytherins were enjoying improving their insults and flattery skills. 

Oh, sure, there were a couple of those sadists who were itching for an attempt to hurt someone, but they feared me too much to act out. They were too old for me to properly help them, so I could only wait for them to graduate and focus my attention on those that  _ could  _ be adjusted. 

In the library I tracked down what books I could find about Wizarding Chess. Maybe I could finagle a way to practice against Ron, or trick him into coming with me— 

“And what might our favorite snake be plotting now?” George asked as he took a seat beside me at the library. I had chosen a table in the furthest back corner specifically to avoid drawing attention to myself. 

_ How the heckity heck did they fi—did they use the map to find me or do I stick out?  _

Fred peered over my shoulder. “Is that… chess strategies?”

“You both have been to the third corridor, right?” I asked, keeping my voice low in case there were others around I couldn’t see. 

“Yep. Three-headed dog—”

“—very interesting.”

“Well, I know how to get past it and a few of the other ones. But I’m trying to get through one of the trials further in,” I explained with a shrug. It didn’t matter if the boys knew. Mischief makers never tattled on other mischief makers. “You need to beat a chessboard that’s been transfigured by Professor McGonagall.”

“Is that all?” they asked in surprise.

“We beat her in our second year,” George said. 

“It’s how we got out of detention for the whole—

“—exploding meat pie.”

I shut the book quickly and looked up at the twins with wide eyes. “Are you telling me you can get past it?”

“Shows us how to get past the dog?” they offered.

“How about you two come along an adventure with me, oh, say… the start of winter break?”

“Well, we  _ would  _ be staying behind this year,” George said carefully. 

“Give us a moment,” Fred said.

The two quickly turned away and started whispering quietly to one another. They talked it over for a few minutes before they faced me again.

“We’d be interested,” they said.

“Why do I feel like there’s an unsaid  _ but  _ at the end of that?” I questioned with a wary smile. 

“There might be,” George breezily responded. 

“For example: we’d be interested  _ but  _ we can’t help to wonder why a snake is interested?”

“The hat mentioned I’d do well in Gryffindor, too,” I chuckled, trying to keep the reasoning light and easily excusable. “Might as well see what I’m missing out on.”

Fred nodded, giving me a pitying look. “A proper tragedy to be a snake.”

“No. A proper tragedy would be to never meet the Marauders,” I mocked. 

Their eyes comically widened as their mouths dropped.

“You know—?”

“You’ve met—?”

“I’m afraid the answer to that only belongs to those I consider adventure buddies,” I dismissed. “If you’re up for a night of daring risk with a snake then be sure to meet me outside the third corridor the second night of winter break.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

With a half-haphazard plan set, I put the books up and decided to pen a note to Sirius. Better to give him an early heads up that I would definitely be staying behind. I wrote to him and Remus every week, and I had already sent my letter that week and didn’t want to wait for the usual time. 

Harry had no issues lending Hedwig to me, just as I had no issues lending Iris to him to keep him company on bad nights. Hedwig couldn’t exactly sleep in his bed, now could she? Iris was a  _ much  _ better cuddler and my twin magic sense always told me when Harry needed a good Iris cuddle. Iris could expand her body to match a body pillow and her wings were softer than any stuffed toy we had ever been given. 

There was also the added bonus that occamies were rat hunters.

I had hoped that if I sent her into Harry’s room she would eat Peter, but she’s yet to smell a rat in their room. 

It was possible Peter was good at hiding, but it was equally possible that he hadn’t chosen to hide out with the Weasley family due to Sirius being alive and free. Officially he was declared a traitor and missing. 

Who the heck knew where he was.

At the owerly I quickly wrote out a note to Sirius. Hedwig must have sensed I needed her majestic presence because she delicately flew down beside me. She held out her claw expectantly as if to say:  _ Are you done yet? _

“You’re a proper lady,” I praised her, tying my note to her claw.

If she could roll her eyes at me, I bet she would have.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

_ Dear Paddy, _

_ You know I love you and I miss you, but I need to stay at Hogwarts over winter break. There’s a chaotic adventure calling for my name and I could never live up to the Marauder’s legacy if I turned it down.  _

_ If you’re okay, I’d love to sneak out to Hogsmeade and be with you all Christmas day though. Some dashing twins have  _ _ the _ _ map and are more than willing to show me a few of its escape routes.  _

_ With adoration, _

_ Rosie _

_ P.S. If you get me another unicorn plush for Christmas I will  _ never  _ forgive you. I have enough. I will run out of space in my bed if you give me anymore. >:( _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

_ Dear Rosie, _

_ What do you mean no more unicorn plushies? :( _

_ Paddy _

_ P.S. Don’t get caught. If Moony asks, I never knew what you were planning.  _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The morning of Halloween Harry and I met up for our run like usual. It was chilly enough outside that I had to wear a jacket with my Muggle running clothes. Although that time I was joined by Draco and Theodore Nott who were dressed in casual workout clothes that looked very similar to what professional Quidditch players used when they exercised (according to  _ Quidditch Weekly _ ). 

Harry nodded at both boys. “Hello. Are you two going to be joining us now?”

“The Slytherin Queen shouldn’t only run with lions,” Draco sniffed, doing his best to act arrogant and superior. Due to the baby fat on his cheeks and the fact that he kept looking over at me as if he expected to praise me just made me think of a puppy who did a neat command for its owner. Hecka becka cute. 

_ Must. Resist. Hugging. _

“Draco here will be Slytherin’s Seeker next year, and Theodore’s expressed wanting to be a duelist,” I explained. “Getting into shape and staying physically fit will be important for both of them.”

“Dueling? What kind?” Hermione politely asked.

Theodore’s face reflexively soured, but he did a good job clearing it up. I was still working on dismantling prejudice in the House. It would be several years before I expected proper results. The children coming in were conditioned at such a young age and I only had so much time with them. I couldn’t demand them to change their viewpoints—they would simply pretend to do so in my company. 

No. Instead, I had to go about it differently. 

Starting off small like taking away the ability to insult one another using blood purity. I had argued it was unimaginative, but in truth I wanted them to stop associating blood purity as an insult altogether. It wouldn’t be an instantaneous thing, but over time they’d start using it less and less, and then stop entirely. It wouldn’t be a worthy insult for them.

Consequently, it’d stop being associated with a powerful negative. Apathy would take its place when brought up.

And then… disdain. Disdain for those “unimaginative” and “simple-minded” witches and wizards who kept using that insult. 

_ Have you no wit?  _ They would think.  _ Is that the only thing you can come up with? _

It was one of the many paths I was setting up for the Slytherin House. 

Baby steps that would lead to a proper change. 

The second foundation I was laying out was logic. Callous and apathetic logic. Slytherin was the House of ambition and cunning, after all. It would be disgraceful if a snake were to not take advantage of every opportunity. Including befriending an extremely talented and brilliant young witch who just so happened to be Muggle-born.

_ You would ignore a powerful potential ally over something so silly as blood? You could always betray her later. Why ignore such a useful tool? _

Morally ambiguous, definitely, but I had to compromise. I had to acknowledge that some of my babeh snakes would never care to give up their viewpoint. All I needed to do was to prepare the groundwork for the following generations. 

Big change should be gradual and consistent, otherwise, it could spark violence. Bullying them into immediate acceptance of my views would only garner resentment and make them more stubborn about their beliefs. I couldn’t think for the “now” only the “later.” 

“International,” Theodore answered Hermione. He raised a hand to fix his neatly combed dark hair. “Are  _ yo _ —I mean—are you interested in dueling, Miss Granger?”

Hermione smiled softly. If she noticed his initially rude tone, she didn’t show it. “What I’ve read about it makes it sound fascinating. Featherdust’s techniques used in the previous tournament sparked a lot of controversies.”

Theodore’s surprise was apparent. “You—You read about that?”

“Naturally. It was in the library.”

There was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, the kind of childish glee someone had when they found someone who shared a common interest. “And? What do  _ you  _ think about Featherdust?”

“He’s brilliant,” Hermione gushed.

“Yes! Thank you.”

I cleared my throat. I knew Theodore was as fanatic about dueling as Harry was at Quidditch, if Hermione kept indulging him he would prattle on all day. “We should get started on our run. Since it’s starting to get too cold even with warming charms on our clothes, let's move this inside next week.”

“I-Is there a place to run inside?” Neville nervously asked. 

“Oh yes,” I said, thinking of the Room of Requirement. “Don’t worry. It’ll be grand.” 

Now, some might be wondering why Harry and I weren’t bringing up our parents. Halloween was the night they were murdered, after all.

We didn’t dwell on their murders in our home. We celebrated their life. We visited their graves on their birthdays. Remus and Sirius did not want us to think of Halloween as anything other than Halloween. It was a healthy thing to do. Remus and Sirius couldn’t adhere to it since they always got mopey around Halloween, but Harry and I could. 

Or, well, Harry definitely could.

I… I always had trouble sleeping around that time. Thoughts of  _ What could I have done better?  _ and  _ Why didn’t I prepare better?  _ would circle around my head like an off-tune carousel. If I dared to close my eyes I’d be back in that crib watching Lily scream as she toppled forward.

Her face was always so beautiful, and in her last moments it had been twisted into despair.

She died not knowing if her children would be safe.

There was bitter pain, chilling fear, sharp guilt, and a jumbled mess of emotions that always reared its head back around Halloween. I had lifetimes to practice compartmentalizing negative emotions, but on that anniversary I found that my experience did not measure up to the weight of—of that trauma. 

Harry did not have a clear memory of that night. Even when I broached the subject he could not remember anything at all. 

I was happy for him. I hoped he wouldn’t have to remember her screams. I hoped that when the whole mess of Voldemort and Death Eaters was done and taken care of I could share with him the memories I had saved of Lily and James. I wanted to show him how much they loved him. He should know that Lily loved to play with his hair, and James adored listening to his giggles. 

Those were things, I felt, that Harry ought to know. 

But I did not dare bring those memories forth and share, because they were always closely followed by the screams and I would—I could never, ever risk Harry listening to those screams. 

So on Halloween I followed Harry’s lead and feigned ignorance in front of Sirius and Remus. He had no memories of that night, and I shouldn’t either. He had nothing to mourn, as he could only recall receiving love and adoration from his current family. By extension, I should be in the same position. 

Perhaps Remus and Sirius would be understanding if I expressed sorrow, but I did not yet feel comfortable risking it. And besides… the two men were hopeless around Halloween, especially Sirius. 

I genuinely did not think Sirius had the emotional capability of supporting himself  _ and  _ me. Remus could handle his own grief with Sirius, but if I added my own on top of it? 

I felt like that would be too much. 

For now, I was fine. I was functioning, and with enough time I would find a chance to properly mourn and eventually find closure. 

I could wait. 

We started our run, Harry and I taking the lead. 

When we got a good bit of distance between us and the rest of our companions Harry leaned toward me. 

“Paddy’s very sad he can’t get you another unicorn,” Harry whispered to me. “Just one more?”

“No! You guys said that two years ago,” I bemoaned. “I don’t have the room here.”

“Please? For me?”

“ _ Traitor!  _ Fine. But it better be a tiny one.”

“It’ll be so small you’ll barely be able to see it,” Harry promised me. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I sat in the Great Hall on Halloween. Around me the Slytherins chattered amongst each other about unimportant things. Millicent was telling a story about how she wrestled with a baby dragon once—a story everyone believed since her cousin was a dragon keeper in Romania and Millicent had lots of pictures of her sneaking out into the reserve to find dragons. 

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

I was serving myself up some lovely roast beef when Professor Quirrell sprinted into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore’s chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, “Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know.” 

He proceeded to faint. Complete with the back of the hand over his forehead. 

_ I bet a hundred galleons he practiced that. Gosh, I wonder if he accidentally fell on Voldemort’s face while doing it.  _

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence. 

“Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”

Prefects, smrefects. I whistled sharply and loudly to draw their attention. “Come along, snakes. Let the lions run into danger while we stay safe and sound.”

“Hear, hear!” joked a Slytherin in the back I couldn’t see. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Back in my room I found a letter on my desk. 

_ Kreacher must have dropped it off,  _ I thought. If he went to such trouble to keep me receiving it a secret that must have meant it was for  Enáretos. With extra care, I double locked my door and instructed Iris to keep watch. I opened it up and read:

_ Friend, _

_ Lunar Orchid is doing well. You were right about it catching attention. Someone named Enyo came sniffing.  _

_ I told him about you like you said to do.  _

_ Attached is his note to you. _

_ Fenris _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I felt a flutter in the pit of my stomach. Enyo wasn’t a name I recognized, but if Fenrir was giving me this information that meant only one thing.

Enyo was a vampire.

Vampires in the Potterverse weren’t discussed much in the story. I had read up about them as soon as I could and found a lot of different and contradicting information. The only thing I could say for certain was that the vampire community was entirely separate from the Wizarding World. They had their own government and system to adhere to. They were secluded and preferred to hide among the Muggle population. 

Specifically, they wanted to stay as far away from wizards as they could. Apparently wizard blood tasted terrible and the stench of it made them nauseous. 

The desire for distance was mutual. According to most sources, wizards felt disturbed when around vampires. Like vampires were low-leveled dementors. 

It was in both communities' best interest to remain separate.

_ But… _

My passion for biology and magic wouldn’t be easily sated. I was fully determined to perfect the werewolf “curse” into something manageable. A transformation without pain, and only by choice. 

I was equally interested in vampire biology. I couldn’t even  _ begin  _ to properly study it without obtaining a reputable source, and the only way to do that would be to contact a vampire. Finding a vampire was tricky, though. The second they smelled a wizard they disappeared from sight. 

Werewolves, though?

Vampires  _ liked  _ werewolves. Not in the  _ you smell yummy let me eat you  _ kind of way, but in the  _ oh you smell like flowers let me be near you  _ kind of way. 

A sanctuary for werewolves? Naturally it’d grab their attention. 

Eagerly, I pulled out the second note.

_ Enáretos, _

_ The wolf insists you are sincere in wanting to learn about us. If you are serious, let us meet in person and discuss what it is you desire. I will be remaining at Lunar’s Orchid for the foreseeable future.  _

_ Awaiting your response, _

_ Enyo _

I sucked in a breath.

_ Welp. Time to speed things up a bit. _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

_ Fenris, _

_ I think it’s time we met in person. How does Christmas Eve sound? _

_ Enáretos _

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my fellow Americans, today the results either made you jump for joy or brimmed with anger. 
> 
> Whatever your opinion, I hope this double update will either make your day all the better, or ease your anxiety. 
> 
> **Answer:** The grey lady.
> 
> **Question:** Vampires or werewolves? 
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	11. Year 1 - 6

**Beta: Cloudy**

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

November’s cold weather moved our running group into the Room of Requirement. When there was frost on the ground every morning that meant it was time to stop sprinting around a lake. 

That chilly month also meant Harry’s first match as Gryffindor’s Seeker since he won the position fair and square at tryouts. Which meant I better put a damper on Voldemort’s day to make sure he wouldn’t interfere with the match.

How, one might ask?

Why, by setting up several dozen traps outside his office and room with the help of two mischievous twins the night before, of course! Sadly, our friendship wasn’t solid enough to get their help for free. I had to let them borrow my cloak of invisibility the following weekend. 

By the time Voldemort was freed of the traps the match would be over. 

I only wished I could see the look on his face as he realized how much of a bumbling moron he had possessed. Not so much that I would miss my brother’s first match, but enough to make me picture it and laugh quietly to myself. 

The Quidditch match went off without a hitch. Even without his personal broom Harry was beyond reproach. I would argue he was even better than canon because he had already been training with Sirius for several years by that point. 

Unfortunately that meant that even with the Slytherin advantage of better brooms Harry still outclassed them. Fred and George being on top-tier brooms certainly didn’t help the matter. 

I had little hope in Slytherin winning the Quidditch Cup. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Christmas break was approaching. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

It made me tempted to set up a bounty for any student who could rip Quirrell’s turban off. The only thing stopping me from doing so was if they succeeded they would have likely died by the pissed off Voldemort underneath. 

Still  _ oh  _ so tempting… 

But then it was time!

Time for an adventure.

On the night where most of the students had gone home, I had snuck out of the dungeons and made my way to the third corridor. Iris poked her head out from under my collar and hissed, “Norrisss up ahead.”

With her guidance, I avoided the fluffy kitty cat and successfully made it to the third corridor without getting caught. I was quite pleased to find both twins already at the door.

George greeted me first with a jaunty wave. “Ready to go?”

“Adventure buddy,” Fred joked. He nudged me with his elbow when I got close enough.

“Yes indeedy. You both better be ready for what’s up ahead. Follow my instructions without hesitation, or you might very well get yourselves killed,” I warned them. 

They mockingly bowed. “Yes, your majesty.”

I pushed open the door to find Fluffy already growling at us.

“Hey you cutie,” I cooed while I pulled out a small wooden flute from my extendable black messenger bag. I blew out a little tune which caused an instant reaction. Fluffy’s eyes dropped and the longer I played the more he swayed. Eventually he toppled to the ground, soft snores escaping him. 

I continued to play as I approached the trap door near his feet. While I played, I nodded to the door to signal for one of the twins to open it.

Fred proved to be brave enough. He carefully opened it, then after I nodded again he and George dropped. I followed behind them.

“Say hello to Devil’s Snare. It’s meant to catch our fall,” I explained as I landed on the soft vines. “Just relax. Once I start a light we’ll fall through.”

“Talk about rare plants,” George muttered to himself as he stilled his movements. With a quick flick of my wand and a quiet spell, white fire danced out of the tip of my wand. The vines reared back and relaxed. Eventually we each fell through. 

“This way,” I said, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward. All we could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward as we moved on to the next trial. 

We reached the end of the passageway and saw before us a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright keys, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

“Now we’re looking for a big old-fashioned key. It’ll be silver like the door handle and,” I trailed off as I tried to remember. “I think it’ll have a crumpled feather on one side. We gotta grab that one.”

“A good thing you brought along us, then,” Fred said, moving to the opposite end of the room where there were brooms stacked up. 

“No one faster,” George added with a cheeky grin.

I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from snorting. “Mm-hmm… I, uh, I’m definitely not fast on a broom. Never had to run away from anyone or anything in my life.”

It still took them a solid fifteen minutes before they could find and catch the key. 

Once that was taken care of, we opened the door and walked into darkness. As we stepped into the next room, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight. We stood on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen which were all taller than we were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing the black pieces, way across the chamber, were the white pieces.

“Take up your positions and play like your life depends on it,” I said. 

“Know what’s beyond this part?” Fred asked me.

“Yeah. A mountain troll—”

“A  _ what _ ?”

I shrugged. “You two can leave any time you want.”

“And miss out on fighting a mountain roll?” George sardonically replied. 

“No, never,” Fred dryly added. “Right, then, George, let’s show the snake how to dominate at Wizarding Chess.”

They had it defeated in under thirty minutes.

I applauded them. 

Next room was the mountain troll, but I already had prepped my draught of slumber. As soon as I spotted the stupid thing, I lugged the potion right at its head and blew it up. Enough of it got into its mouth that it fell over comatose. 

“That wasn’t very exciting,” George commented.

“Want me to wake it up?” I offered. “I have a sword packed away here if you want to fight it traditionally.”

“Maybe next time,” Fred suggested. 

Onto the next room which was designed by Professor Snape. In the stone room was a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. 

After all of us had stepped inside the room a purple fire sprang up behind us in the doorway. 

“That—”

“—looks nasty.”

“Yes,” I agreed, grabbing the roll of paper that was laid out next to the bottles. “This room was designed by the prince of melodrama himself, Professor Snape.”

I cleared my throat before I read the letter out loud to them: 

“Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, 

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, 

One among us seven will let you move ahead, 

Another will transport the drinker back instead, 

Two among our number hold only nettle wine, 

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore, 

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide 

You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side; 

Second, different are those who stand at either end, 

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend; 

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, 

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; 

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right 

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.”

George and Fred stared intently at the laid out bottles. 

George asked, “Got an answer?”

“Yes. And a back up plan in case Professor Snape chooses to be logical instead of indulging in Professor Dumbledore’s fantasy puzzle whims.”

“Huh?” they asked me.

“Dumbledore asked some teachers to set up these puzzles to get to the prize,” I explained. “They had to be dangerous enough to protect the prize, but not so lethal that no one could get through in case of an emergency. If  _ I  _ was Snape I wouldn’t let there be an answer. Everything would be poisonous.”

Fred and George warily eyed the bottles.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured them, pulling out a bezoar. “I brought along several antidotes and bezoars for just such an occasion. Still… would either of you like to take a crack at solving the puzzle?”

“You said it’s logic, right?” Fred asked.

“Yep. You two are brilliant young wizards. I’m confident you can solve this one,” I said encouragingly.

The tips of their ears reddened as they both turned away from me to look at the bottles. I wondered how often the duo were praised for their genius. They  _ were  _ brilliant. Molly was absolutely right: if they applied themselves they could do anything they wanted. 

A pity that not many could see exactly how dazzling they were right away.

_ Maybe this time will be different. _

I handed them the paper, and they talked quietly between themselves for many minutes. They went back and forth, until Fred hesitantly pointed at the smallest bottle. “This will get us through, right?”

“Yes. I’ll take the first sip,” I said, handing Fred the bezoar as a precaution. I half-hoped Professor Snape was purely logical and poisoned it just for the shits and giggles. 

I was wrong, it was perfectly fine. 

Like any good mentor would do, I turned to the twins and warmly praised them for their efforts, “Very well done you two.”

The tiniest bottle barely had enough between the three of us. I took only what was needed, wincing at how it felt like ice was flooding through my body. Then I hopped through the fire forward, and waited for the twins. 

_ I can’t believe Snape didn’t poison it. What a silly bean. _

They joined me shortly and—

“Ta-da!” I said with a grand gesture to the stone chamber. At its center was the Mirror of Erised in its glistening golden glory. 

“A  _ mirror _ ?” they were aghast. 

“It’s a special mirror. Careful not stare at it too long because it’ll drive you insane,” I said, skipping over to it. 

In it, I saw my reflection, smiling with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin. Joining me was—

Lily and James. They were alive, happy, and hugging a brilliantly smiling Harry. We were all together, a proper family. Paddy was there, and so was Remus. Oh! And my beautiful worgen army was cheering fur—for—us in the background. And—

No, no, no. 

_ I’ve no intention of inflating the market, nor do I want to live forever. Let me protect the stone from the one who covets it. _

The me in the reflection giggled, and patted at her pockets.

I felt a weight appear, and out I pulled the glistening red stone. Neither Fred nor George saw it, which was very important. They had no defense against Snape’s mind reading so it would be best if he only ever saw that we reached the mirror. 

“It’s our joke shop,” George whispered in awe as he stared at it. 

Fred asked, “Does this show the future?”

“Nope. Only what you deeply desire,” I said. “Come on, we better get back before it gets too late.”

“Wha—all this just for a mirror?”

“They might add more stuff to it later,” I lied. “Not all the teachers have added traps. Maybe they’re setting it up as an obstacle course for later years!”

“I guess,” Fred said after a moment with a shrug. “It wasn't difficult to get through. First years could probably manage.”

“Very likely,” I wholeheartedly agreed. 

Getting back took half the time. Once we were back out and out the corridor it was time to head our separate ways. 

“Oh, and, word of advice,” I cheerfully said as I pulled out my invisibility cloak. “Professor Snape regularly uses legilimency on students. Especially you two. If you don’t want him to read your mind, don’t look him in the eye until you’ve been trained in occlumency.”

“ _ What?! _ ” they demanded.

“No wonder—”

“—we could never get him!”

“That snake!”

“That sneak!”

“Unfair!” they concluded. 

“Until you learn occlumency if you have to look him in the eye, start thinking of the most outlandish and embarrassing stuff. Or just start screaming in your head a bunch of nasty insults to call him,” I suggested. “He’ll be too busy with your dominant thoughts to dig further.”

“How can you learn occlumency?” Fred asked me.

“I already bought your books for Christmas,” I said with a smile. “When you think you’re ready let me know and I’ll test you. Meanwhile, do your best not to let Snape know about this, yeah? Otherwise they might make it harder to sneak back in when they finish setting it up!”

_ Oh, wait— _

“And thank you,” I said, turning to each of them and giving them a friendly kiss on the cheek like I would with Harry. “It was lovely company, even if the adventure wasn’t nearly as dangerous as fighting a dragon. Come with me on Christmas and I’ll introduce you both to Padfoot and Moony.”

Their grins were so bright and joyful they could have competed against sunflowers under a sunny day. 

_ Cute kids _ . 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Christmas Eve**

Sneaking out of Hogwarts to Hogsmeade to use the floo channel to a designated spot where Kreacher would apparate me to Lunar’s Orchid took longer than expected. Thankfully I set the time to meet Fenrir near midnight so I had plenty of time to get there.

And by that I meant I barely got there a few minutes prior to midnight, out of breath. I had thankfully dressed warmly in my dark cloak and heavy winter boots, but the winter air was so bitterly cold it hurt with every breath I sucked in. 

We had agreed to meet in the forest outside Lunar’s Orchid at a spot Fenrir liked to visit. It was on the outskirts of the forest so it was easy to track down. I followed Fenrir’s footsteps in the deep snow the rest of the way. Kreacher insisted on being nearby, ready to assist me at any moment and that I kept the emergency portkey on me. He respected my desire for perfecting the lycanthrope curse, but he was stubbornly cautious against werewolves and thought them untrustworthy. Especially Fenrir. 

“Hello,” I said, stepping out of the trees to greet Fenrir Greyback with a smile and wave. “It’s good to meet you properly.”

Fenrir was a large, vicious-looking man with combed-back gray hair. But, being forced into society for a prolonged period of time had done wonders on his skin and hair. The books described him as dirty, matted, and unkept. The Fenrir before me had a roguish appearance, but not feral. Why, some might have even called him a silver fox now! 

Surprise flickered over his face as he looked me up and down. “Kid?”

“Let’s just say I’m  _ very  _ smart for my age,” I chuckled, moving closer to him. “I had hoped to meet you a bit later on, but circumstances have changed. It’s time to adjust.”

“Yer—er—how—how ol’ are yah?” Fenrir asked, golden eyes blinking rapidly. It was clear he was still stuck on the fact that I was physically a child. He sniffed, inhaling deeply, then muttered to himself, “Smell like the le’er. How ol’ are yah?”

“Older than I look,” I promised him. “Does it really matter, though? I hope that I have treated you well enough that you can judge me by my actions and not appearance.”

My words struck a chord with him. He shook his head then bared his teeth at me in a feral grin. He held out a calloused hand to me. “Yes. Yah ‘ave.”

“My friends call me Rosie,” I introduced myself. I grasped his hand, it was much larger than my own. In another life he would have made a cool grandpa, I bet. “But I would prefer if we stuck to  Enáretos in public. I would like to refrain from revealing myself for a while.”

There.

A gesture of trust. 

I had given Fenrir a chance to betray that trust. He realized that because his grip tightened and he said, “Rosie in pri’ate ten.”

I smiled warmly up at him. “Right you are. I’m sure you have questions, I’ll do what I can to answer them. I can’t stay too long since I did sneak out and whatnot.”

“Curfew?” he joked.

“Yep,” I laughed. “Go ahead. Ask me anything.”

“Why me?” he asked. The speed of that question let me know he had been thinking about it for a while.

“Because I knew I could count on you,” I said. “You’re sincere in what you want, and I believe in that. I believe in you.”

He cocked his head, reminiscent of a puzzled dog. He scratched the back of his head as he mulled over my words. “How’d yah know ‘bout me? ‘Bout that name,  _ Fenris _ ?”

“Same way I know the sun will come up tomorrow.”

“Huh?”

“I just did,” I said with a shrug. “I can’t explain it.”

“Yah—ehh—one of them—ehhh—seers?”

“Maybe. Never been tested,” I answered honestly. I  _ could  _ have been seer. Who the heck knew for sure? 

Those two questions must have been the most important ones because he was silent for several minutes as he chewed them over. He opened his mouth multiple times about to ask me another question, but closed it and shook his head. I patiently waited, taking the moment to look around and admire the pretty snowfall. 

Fenrir’s favorite spot had been a hill that overlooked Lunar Orchid. To our back was the forest planted to help protect Lunar Orchid from public view. The werewolf haven was sparkling with lights. Even at a distance I could see a gigantic Christmas tree they had put up in the center of it. 

“Wha’ do yah want?” he asked, following my gaze to the big tree. 

“A better world,” I answered. “And… I admit I want to study the werewolf curse. I would like to see if it’s possible to control it without the use of wolfsbane.”

“Control ‘ow?” he warily asked.

“Control as in a painless transition, and the ability to transform without the use of a moon,” I told him. His eyes widened as he sucked in a breath. 

“Yer… not tryin’ teh cure us?” he asked, his tone and expression revealing nothing.

“Heck no. Embrace the fluff.” I grinned at him, he burst out into harsh laughter so hard his whole body shook.

“No’ scared?” he mocked, golden eyes lit with a ferocity that would scare most men. 

But death and lycanthrope did not scare me, and so Fenrir could never scare me. 

“Nah. There are much scarier things than being a werewolf. For example, dying with regrets.”

“I can agree teh that,” he said, his grin large. He had moved to stand closer to me, his large frame towering over me. He placed a massive hand over my head. “So? How are yah goin’ teh do that?”

“Magic, of course! I only need some time and  _ probably  _ some blood samples.”

He grimaced as he retracted his hand. “Needles?”

“You don’t have to give  _ your  _ blood. Just collect blood from residence,” I dismissed. “Send them to my lab at the orchard. I’ll handle the rest. I do my best work over summer, so if you can prepare as much as you can by summer that’d be ideal.”

He scratched at his chin. “I can. I will. So, uh… are yeh at—ehh—Hogwarts?”

“Yep. Slytherin.”

He nodded, a sly smile on his face. “I hear’ it’s fer _evil_ witches.”

“How rude! I’m not evil.”

“Many woul’ disagree considerin’ the company yer keepin’.”

“A shame. They’re missing out,” I said. “Oh… here.”

I opened my expandable pouch and pulled out a giant colorfully wrapped box. 

“Merry Christmas, friend.”

He accepted it carefully, giving an odd little smile. It was much softer than any of the previous grins he had shown me that night. It was easy to see the smile on him as a child. A child, abandoned, beaten, and ignored for too many years to count. 

“I never go’ these ‘til I met yeh,” he told me.

“I hope you’ll indulge me and continue to accept them.”

He laughed. It was a warm laughter. 

It was the kind of laugh a tired man had when he finally found a bit of joy in his life. 

“Merry Christmas, Fenrir,” I said softly.

“Merry Christmas, Rosie.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Christmas Day**

I didn’t really get a chance to sleep. Fenrir and I ended up talking for a few more hours. He had some questions, but in truth it felt like he enjoyed my company. It was easy to converse with him, we had a lot of similar opinions. When I eventually snuck back into Hogwarts it was already time to start getting ready to sneak  _ back  _ to Hogsmeade to meet Sirius, Remus, and Harry. 

I freshened up as best I could before I met up with Fred and George at their favored secret entrance. The three of us trekked down the dark tunnel and hid under the invisibility cloak to sneak out of the candy shop before booking it over to the Three Broomsticks where Sirius and Remus had reserved a room for us to meet.

As soon as I made it into the room, I got out from the invisibility cloak and stared in disbelief at what was waiting for me.

Yes, Sirius, Remus, Harry, and a rushed Christmas tree was there. They had even decorated the room with our family ornaments. It was a sweet gesture, really. 

But...

“What the hell is that?” I said, staring in disbelief at the giant unicorn stuffed toy that Sirius could barely hold in his arms.

“Merry Christmas, Rosie!” Sirius said with such great cheer.

“That thing is bigger than my bed!” I shrieked. “Take it back.”

He tossed it to me. It fell on me. It was like having a mattress fall on top of me. “Oof.”

“You can just use this as your bed now. It’s enchanted to be extra comfy,” Sirius explained.

“Getitoffme.”

“Huh?”

“ _ Get. It. Off. Me. _ ”

“Enchant it to stick to you? Gosh, if I knew you were going to love it that much I would have gotten you two more,” laughed the marauder.

“PADDY!”

At my cry, Sirius kindly took it off me and tossed it in the back corner. He pulled me into a tight hug before giving a sharp look at Fred and George who were fish-faced and staring at him.

“Paddy—”

“—as in Padfoot?”

“Ahh. Fresh meat,” Sirius chuckled as he extended a hand. “Harry and Rosie have told me a lot about you two. Treating the map well?”

“Yes, sir!” They said, hurriedly pulling it out to present it to him.

Remus approached the map, smiling fondly at it. “Good times. Ah… please come take a seat. We have presents for you.”

“For  _ us _ ?”

“Of course. I invited you to join us on Christmas Day, did you expect we would just make you watch?” I asked, offended they thought so poorly of me. 

They shook their heads.

“We didn’t—”

“—prepare—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Sirius insisted, pulling both boys further into the room. He put an arm around each of their shoulders. “Rosie’s too mean to take up the marauder mantle. Someone’s got to, and as your senior it’s my duty to look out for you.”

“What do you mean I’m too  _ mean _ ?” I gasped. “I am  _ so  _ nice.”

“How many snakes did you traumatize this year?” Harry dryly asked me. He had taken a seat on the giant stuffed unicorn. It was so big that his legs dangled off the back. “I distinctly remember seeing some of them cry when you  _ glared  _ at them.”

I coughed. “O-Only a few—”

“At least a dozen during dinner—”

“Well! Um. I’m not  _ that _ mean.”

“Oh, Rosie,” Remus sighed. Then he gave me the Look of Disappointment and I whimpered.

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think canonically Dumbledore put the mirror in  _ after  _ Christmas, buuuuuut I didn’t like how it flowed so I changed it up a few days. 
> 
> Rewatching / rereading the HP series as an adult has drastically changed my perspective. Everyone is adorable. So much love. 
> 
> **Answer:** Most of the time I would choose fwoof but sometimes I like the history behind the leeches. Like Warhammer. :)
> 
> **Question:** Who would you take with you to steal the stone if it could be anyone?
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	12. year 1 - 7

**Beta: Cloudy**

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Returning from Hogsmeade was done quickly and quietly. The twins were grinning ear to ear and in such jolly moods. I couldn’t blame them. Not only had Sirius taken them aside to privately discuss what it meant to be a marauder, but he had given them a fair bit of gifts. At first the twins had been reluctant to accept some of them—especially the bag of galleons—but Sirius had insisted. 

“You need to start somewhere. We had plenty between all of us, but you’ve only got yourselves!” Sirius had argued. “Hogwarts needs marauders. Make sure you’ll set up for the next generation, too.”

They eventually agreed. 

The one item that made them  _ really  _ happy was a book. It, sadly, wasn’t my occlumency book—though they did thank me for that—but rather a book on animagus training. The same one Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus had used.

Fred and George were positively  _ giddy _ . 

The three of us reached Hogwarts without fuss and went our separate ways. I nearly made it back to the dungeons without issue when I ran into a sweet old schemer. 

“Good day, Miss Potter,” Professor Dumbledore cheerfully greeted me. He looked exceptionally fashionable in his purple star-printed robes and matching hat. “Thank you ever so kindly for the gifts.”

“One can never have enough socks. Especially thick woolen ones,” I said with a sly smile. 

“I could not agree more. People have usually insisted on giving me books. The socks are greatly appreciated.”

“I’ll make sure to send you more next year along with a matching hat,” I promised him. “I’m thinking fox-themed.”

Professor Dumbledore chuckled warmly. “I will look forward to them. I do hope you enjoyed seeing your family.”

_ He definitely caught me sneaking out. _

“Yep. Thanks for not giving me detention,” I chirped. 

“It’s only fair. You gave me such nice socks.”

I laughed. 

I did have one more stop to make before returning to my dorms. 

I did not know if Professor Snape stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays. I did not feel it would be appropriate to ask such a question, yet. He treated me better than my twin, but closer to indifference when compared to the other snakes. If I answered a question correctly in class it was treated as an expectation, not a praise. 

It… did not sit well with me. That type of treatment reminded me of my mother from my past life. I was torn between two ways of dealing with it.

The first option that came to mind would be to try and please him—to go out of my way to earn brownies points. It was something I had done in my past life, and it did absolutely nothing for me. If anything, it made it worse because going above and beyond became the expectation. I was continuously pushed to meet a rising bar, and when I failed it… it did not work out well. 

The second option would be to ignore the professor entirely and play a more passive role in class. The second option was equally unappealing because I  _ needed  _ to excel in potions. I had a fair bit of knowledge from self-study and the tutoring from Remus, but Snape was a proper potions  _ master _ . 

There were things that could not be taught in a book—like how to adjust a potion on the fly, how to predict when one has turned volatile, and so on. Such things came with experience. Experience which I lacked, and Professor Snape had plenty to spare.

I needed him to feel comfortable enough to answer more advanced questions on potions, yet I felt sick to my stomach going out of my way to please him.

I felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

Snape was someone I liked well enough, which was why I could even consider the first option, but the blatant reminder of how I behaved in my past life deeply unsettled me. All semester I struggled with what to do, and at Christmas I made up my mind.

Professor Snape was not my mother.

Lily was my mom.

Professor Snape was a completely different person. If I could offer faith in Fenrir Greyback then surely I could do the very same to Professor Snape—no—surely I  _ would  _ do the same to Professor Snape.

So I entered his potions classroom—I had to use Alohamora, of course—and I placed neatly wrapped Christmas present on his desk along with a sincere thank you for being my potions professor. 

I had no way of knowing if it would be thrown immediately in the trash, or accepted, but at least I took the first step in trying. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Once everyone returned from Christmas break things slipped back into a comfortable routine. 

Well.

Some upper-years had renewed courage after spending time at home. They tried to usurp me.

I had to break their legs and sit on them until they begged mercy. Yes, it was extreme, but they did try to legitimately kill me by attempting to throw me down  _ the entire flight of moving staircases _ . 

Third time, I had warned them, and I would snap their wands. That made them start to cry hysterically because they knew  _ I would absolutely do that _ . 

On a lovely morning I lazily trotted behind Hermione and Theodore, watching as the two had an out-breath discussion on Western v Eastern dueling. Theodore’s eyes were becoming increasingly shiny as Hermione skillfully rebuked some of his arguments. I couldn’t hear their entire conversation, but it sounded like Theodore was playing devil’s advocate and Hermione was supporting how he truly felt. 

_ Oh my God, I think he’s falling for her,  _ I thought as I watched Theodore gasping with glee as Hermione gestured something with her hands.  _ Just kidding. Puberty hasn’t hit any one of these babehs yet. But I think he might come to see her as a friend. _

Huge yay for me. Converting the child of Death Eaters to being Pro Hermione was fantastic. 

Behind me, I could hear Harry and Draco quietly arguing over Quidditch. There wasn’t any heat behind it—they both supported the same Quidditch team—but I guess it was something to do with how the latest referee had disappeared during a match and reappeared in the Sahara Desert. They were discussing the benefits of making referees disappear, and whether it was worth the trouble.

_ Oh, my sweet Harry. Please don’t kidnap those poor referees.  _

To my right was an extremely determined and focused Daphne Greengrass. She had even pulled her shiny strawberry blonde hair into a ponytail. She  _ hated  _ ponytails, but she was so dead set on kicking Theodore’s ass that she was willing to make that sacrifice. 

Neville was on my left, the honeypie was bright-eyed and happy. Consistent exercise and friends had already done wonders for the baby boy. 

Further behind Draco and Harry were Tracey and Pansy who were encouraging Millicent. Lagging the furthest behind was Vincent and Gregory who were putting in an honest effort. Blaise was at the end, barely putting in any effort.

That’s right.

I had them  _ all  _ running in the Room of Requirement. The Room had transformed into a black-stoned gym with a marked track. It was pretty friggin huge, certainly enough that one lap around it had most of us out of breath. 

Draco and Theodore had been extra braggy about the runs after the first month. The first month they were miserable, a lot like Neville was at the start. Being pampered Death Eater babies for so long they were completely unused to the physical exertion. 

They hated it.

I could see it in their eyes that they actively resented me when I woke them up and dragged them out to run. 

Only for the first month, though. When they got used to it, it no longer felt like such a chore. The first time they finished the run without trembling legs or gasps of air, they felt a triumph unlike anything before.

They had never had a significant hurdle to cross.

I gave them one.

They conquered it.

Completing a goal that started out painful and difficult—there simply wasn’t a high like it. They came back on their own, victorious grins on their faces. 

Exercising had proven time and time again to improve one’s overall mood. They had gotten past the hardest part, and now they were reaping in the dopamine and endorphin benefits. By Christmas, they were bragging about how great they felt—and indeed, anyone could see that they looked better, too. 

Theodore Nott had been a reedy boy, but after two months of dedicated running every day he visibly changed to someone more toned. Not drastic, of course! But enough that when pointed out everyone could see. Malfoy was the same. Not as reedy as Theodore, but he was too soft. 

Daphne and Pansy were the next to join. 

Daphne wanted to quit halfway through but—

Theodore smirked, taunting her, “Shoulda known a  _ girl  _ like  _ you  _ couldn’t handle it.”

That lit a fire under her ass. Never doubt the power of petty and spite. I didn’t need to be a legilimency master to read her thoughts of:  _ I am going to KICK YOUR ASS THEODORE! _

By the next week Vincent, Millicent, Tracey, and Gregory had tagged along. 

And finally, Blaise Zabini who really,  _ really  _ hated running but didn’t want to be the only Slytherin in his year group to not be a part of it. Peer pressure really did wonders. 

‘Course, that now meant that the snakes outnumbered the lions. Had the lions been led by someone other than  _ my  _ brother, that might have caused issues. It was unspoken that if anyone had issues with my twin, then they had issues with me.

Hermione—

Well. 

Look, I was working with babeh Death Eaters. Per our House rule, insulting was toned back, and they were forbidden to mock someone using blood status. That being said, they still had _such_ a superiority complex. 

Blaise had an ego bigger than the sun. Daphne and Tracey made a face every time Hermione tried to speak with them. Pansy bit so hard on her bottom lip to keep from insulting Hermione that it bled. Vincent and Gregory straight-up walked away if she tried to speak to them.

The only ones who gave her the time of day were Draco—who I praised for being polite, which I think was why he kept being polite to her—Millicent, who was just an all-around nice girl—and Theodore who tried to talk to her about dueling at every opportunity.

Three outta nine was not too bad in my first year. Two outta nine if I counted sincerity. I didn’t believe for a second that Draco thought of her as a friend—he would roll his eyes behind her back in class when she got a question right. 

I would take what I could.

Hermione was a champ. Even though the other Slytherins hurt her in their rebuffs, she didn’t take it out on them. 

At the end of the run, I made it a point to pull her aside in a firm hug and tell her something to the effect of, “You’re a brilliant witch. I’ll make sure they see that eventually.”

I loved to see her smile sweetly at me in return. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

From December rolled January, and then into February, and then it was past Easter and everyone was scrambling to deal with their upcoming exams. It was decided that a couple of hours before Roast Night began we would study with each other. 

Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass had the prettiest notes. Both had color-coordinated everything. My notes were well written, but I was used to writing shorthand so only I could read them. Draco’s face looked like he bit into a rotten lemon when he tried to read my notes.

“Is this a new language?” he asked me, then grimaced as he realized I might have been offended by it.

“Practically is,” I snorted. “Sorry, I’m not used to sharing notes.”

“It’s fine. I have plenty to share,” Daphne said with a saccharine smile as she pushed her notes closer to me. “Not to call your notes bad, but if you want to use  _ mine _ —”

“Mine is written in thick ink. It’ll be easier for you to read,” Theodore said as he planted his notes right on top of Daphne’s.

“She’s not blind,” Daphne hissed as she shoved his notes away.

I coughed. “I’m fine with my own notes. It’s important that  _ all  _ Slytherins do well. We want to keep a hold of the House Cup, don’t we?”

The first year babeh snakes nodded in agreement. 

“Then let’s—”

My charming Saturday afternoon was interrupted by a fidgeting third year Slytherin girl. “U-Um, Queen?”

“What?” I sighed.

“Harry Potter is outside. He needs to talk to you.”

“Oh,  _ God _ ,” I bemoaned. He wouldn’t have come to me unless he was in trouble. 

“Want me to take care of it?” Draco offered, jumping at the chance to try and grab the title of being my right hand. 

“ _ I  _ can handle it,” Pansy interjected.

“Both of you sit down and study,” I said. “I’ll be back.”

I thanked the third year girl before I ducked out of the dungeons to find a nervous Harry. With a frown, I reached forward and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Hagrid’s got a dragon,” Harry whispered urgently to me. “It’s hatching.  _ Now _ . We’ve spent weeks trying to convince him to get rid of it but only  _ now  _ will he!”

“Okay…” I let out a slow breath. I pulled out the small notebook I kept in my robes. With my wand I wrote across it:  _ Kreacher, meet us at Hogsmeade within an hour. Wait for my summon. _

“Iris, rush this to Hedwig. Tell her it’s an emergency,” I hissed at her. 

Iris slithered out of my robes and grabbed the piece of paper in her mouth. With a quick nod she darted off to the owerly, her pure white wings beating furiously to speed her on. I wasn’t sure if Iris and Hedwig could directly communicate, but Hedwig was a smart girl. If  _ Iris  _ was delivering a note to her, I’m sure she could conclude there was an emergency. 

“I’m going back in to grab the cloak of invisibility. You need to get Fred and George and we’ll all meet at Hagrid’s hut. Do  _ not  _ draw any more attention to yourself,” I instructed.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Right. You know what you’re doing.”

“Always do.” With a sigh I ducked back inside. I looked over at my study group and said, “Change of plans. I need to clean up a mess. Cover for me.”

“No one will know you’re gone,” Daphne promised.

“Good.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Cloak in hand, I met Harry, Fred, George, Neville, and Hermione at Hagrid’s hut. I hadn’t known that Harry had bonded with Hagrid—the two didn’t meet prior to Hogwarts—but I was happy that friendship still happened. Hagrid was a gentle giant who deserved nothing but happiness and love. If I had more time I would have tried to befriend him, too. 

Between grooming Slytherin, prepping Lunar’s Orchid, and my studies (both academic and personal) I literally didn’t have the time. I had also been hoping to cultivate more friendships, but again—no time.

Being a queen required a lot of multitasking. 

At Hagrid’s hut, Norbert was already hatched and Hagrid was tending to it.

“Hagrid, this is my sister Rosie,” Harry introduced us. “She’s here to help.”

“Hello, Hagrid. I know you know you can’t keep the dragon,” I said, keeping my tone warm and soft. “Your hut is no place to raise her—er—him.”

“I—I know I can’t keep him forever, but I can’t jus’ dump him, I can’t.”

“That’s fine. You know Sirius and Remus, right?” I said.

“Yeah,” Hagrid answered with a nod.

“We’re going to get this dragon to them. They can get it to a dragon reserve… like in Romania,” I said, recalling that was where Norberta had been originally placed. “I’ve brought my cloak, we have a few hours before dinner. Fred, George, and I will escort the dragon to a meeting point.”

“Paddy already knows?” Harry asked in surprise.

“He’s good at thinking on his feet. Kreacher will meet us,” I explained. “Harry, Hermione, Neville, I need you three to make it look like there was never a dragon here. We don’t want Hagrid to get in trouble, right?”

“Right,” Neville agreed.

“I’ll leave you three to it. George, Fred, you guys up for another adventure?”

“Trolls first and now a dragon,” George said with a grin.

“You really know how to show your friends a good time,” Fred joked.

“Troll?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

“ _ Oh _ . Please tell me you didn’t go to the third corridor,” Hermione moaned.

Fred, George, and I all innocently looked away and pretended we didn’t hear that.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Getting Norbert(a) to Hogsmeade without getting caught was tense but uneventful. Fred and George were able to guide us to the secret passage without running into a teacher, and my invisibility cloak hid the sedated dragon perfectly (you didn’t think I  _ wouldn’t  _ sedate a baby dragon when sneaking it out, did you?). 

Kreacher appeared in a snap when I called out to him. While he could appear at Hogwarts, I figured it best to make the trade outside it. I had a feeling if I didn’t, we would get caught somehow. I would rather be caught sneaking out than smuggling a dragon. Better safe than sorry.

I explained the situation to Kreacher, instructing him to relay it perfectly to Sirius and Remus and assist them both in sneaking it to Romania. 

“We’ll write a letter to Charlie tonight,” Fred added. 

“He studies dragons in Romania,” George explained. 

“If Sirius and Remus can watch over it until Charlie’s ready for it, everything will be okay,” I said to Kreacher. “Got it?”

“Kreacher understands,” Kreacher said, bobbing his head. 

“Great. Thank you, Kreacher.”

And that’s how I handled the Norbert(a) situation. 

_ Amazing what happens when competent adults step in. _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I let out a woeful sigh as I draped myself across the Slytherin common room couch. Another study group had finally come to an end. Being an adult didn’t give me much more advantage in magical education other than the self-discipline to study. All the studies I had done prior to coming to Hogwarts directly related to my long-term plans.

I had to practice as much as the other students. I didn’t have a wide variety of spells at my arsenal like I tried to let people think. 

I simply mastered a select few.

“If I have to look at another transfiguration book for the rest of my life it’ll be too soon,” Draco sourly muttered. The pale boy was seated on the floor in front of the couch, his textbooks sprawled out among the coffee table for everyone to use. Vincent and Gregory sat beside him, with Daphne, Pansy, and Theodore opposite. Blaise would never sit on the floor, so the cutie patootie sprawled across one of the armchairs to study. 

Millicent Bulstrode returned to our study group with an armful of goodies. I had told the location of the kitchens to all my Slytherin first years, so they could grab snacks whenever needed. Everyone my entire first-year snake babehs had joined in on morning runs they would need to eat more often to keep up their energy.

Tracey Davis pulled her long black hair up into a bun—very similar to my own, actually—and opened up the charms book. “We’re almost done. Let’s just get this hell over with.”

“Do we really need to study more?” Blaise questioned, his dark eyes narrowed as he glared at the charms book. 

“We’re only as impressive as our weakest link,” I told him. “Until  _ everyone  _ is able to get good scores, I will not be satisfied.”

Vincent, Gregory, and Millicent lowered their gazes. I wouldn’t call them out, but the three had the lowest academic grades. Their strengths simply didn’t lie in paperwork. I understood that, and I wished there was an alternative solution. The way the society was set up, however, if they wanted to snatch decent jobs they needed to do well on their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. The best way to do that was to secure a firm foundation of the basics ASAP. 

I had come to genuinely care for all my snakes and I wanted the best future for them. The three of them had no ambition or desire. To be frank, I really didn’t know why they were put into Slytherin. 

Until they had that drive I was going to push them. One day they’d find their passion, they just needed time. Meanwhile, I wanted to give them the best chance I could. 

Which meant lots of group studying. 

“Come on,” Daphne said with a sigh. “Only charms is left. No one needs help with potions, right?”

Everyone shook their heads. Professor Snape made  _ damn  _ sure none of the Slytherins had any issues with potions. If he so much as thought a single one was dragging in lessons, he’d pull them aside after dinner and inflict such a scathing lecture it’d bring them to near tears. The Slytherin prefects were always offering to help tutor anyone lagging in potions. 

“Y-Your majesty, your twin is outside again—”

“Oh my God if it’s another dragon, I swear to—”

“Dragon?” echoed more than a few confused children.

I waved them off. “Another time for that story.”

It, thankfully, was not a dragon. Harry wanted to borrow my notes—I had shown him how to read shorthand, so he knew—and use them to study. I obliged because I was a good sister and I wanted him to succeed. Not like I needed them when I had such a big study group.

One way or another, we’d get through those damn exams. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bonus scene:**

It was a rare opportunity. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to act.

There, in the hallway ahead of me, Harry was chatting with Fred and George. There were no books in any of their hands, and no class was expecting them for a while.

I shoved my textbooks into Draco’s arms, the poor boy sputtering in surprise. I turned on my heel to Harry and sprinted. I whipped out my wand and cast a quick spell to tie Fred’s shoelaces together. Just as Fred noticed what I had done, I had jumped onto Harry’s back. I swung out my legs as Harry reflexively began to piggy-back carry me.

“TWIN RACE: GO GO GO!”

Without really thinking, Harry began to run with me on him. I turned around to see the looks of the flabbergasted twins. I stuck out my tongue and taunted them, “Suckers!”

They gasped. George then picked up Fred, tossed him over his shoulder and started running to catch up. 

“NOT TODAY, SNAKE!”

“FASTER HARRY, FASTER!”

“WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO GO, ROSIE?!”

“JUST RUN, BROTHER, RUN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**
> 
> See you next week! 
> 
> **Answer:** Hermione and the twins would be fun.
> 
> **Question:** Which professor would you  _ actually  _ bond with the most? Which one would you _ wish  _ bonded with you the most? All past/present/future professors are acceptable. 
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	13. Year 1 - 8

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Professor Snape did indeed throw away my Christmas present for him. I noticed it in the trash bin during my next class with him. He gave me an extra stink eye all day.

 _Yeesh. At least I tried,_ I thought. It wasn’t terribly surprising he threw it out. Professor Snape had issues out the wazoo. Fenrir was disturbed, but a lot easier for me to understand and anticipate what I needed to do for him. Fenrir was focused on discrimination and wanting to better himself and werewolves. Professor Snape was just a terribly bitter man.

_Maybe next year. Surely I can wear him down enough to be a step above deplorable in his eyes._

Exams were easier than expected. Everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief when it was done.

Some might have even cried tears of joy. Mostly the upperclassmen.

And Millicent. She was overjoyed that she knew most of the answers.

With that big hurdle out of the way, I could properly enjoy the remaining time at Hogwarts.

At least until Voldemort and his puppet made their move.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I hadn’t been keeping watch on the corridor or anything of the sort. I knew something happened when DADA and all other classes were canceled. I could only conclude one thing: Voldemort made his move.

 _I bet he ran off with the mirror. That shit shoulda been melted into the ground or something,_ I thought. _Welp, time to go save the day._

Iris draped herself around my neck like a scarf as I headed off to the staff room. I made it a point to know every location in Hogwarts that I _could_ learn about. There were going to be rooms I wouldn’t find, or I would miss, but I could at least try. Important stuff like where the teacher’s offices were or the staff room felt mandatory.

The staff room could be entered through the Great Hall—in fact, it was the passageway to the left that the professors usually came in from. Nearing the room I heard a lot of raised voices, and when I knocked loudly everyone got quiet _real_ fast.

The door was furiously swung open by an enraged Professor McGonagall.

In my head, she was my adopted grandma so it was worrying to see her so upset. It couldn’t have been good for her health. Peering around her I could see the paled faces of all the professors, except Quirrel who was noticeably absent.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, amusement in my tone. “Did a certain teacher run off with something valuable?”

“What—?”

“What do you know, Potter?” Professor Snape demanded, his voice sharper than a knife. His complexion had paled considerably. What a shame he through away my gift, it was filled with yummy delights than would have brightened anyone’s day.

“Did he?” I asked again, looking at Professor Dumbledore who looked extra stylish in his brown robes with owl-prints on them. I hoped one day to have the confidence to pull off such a look when I reached his age.

“He took the mirror,” he answered me, twinkling eyes looking at me with curiosity.T To my delight, I felt no attack or intrusion into my mind. Professor Dumbledore was refraining from using his Legilimency against me. I wasn’t sure if that was a mark of favor in my way, or if perhaps he had enough morals to no want to use such an ability on a child.

Had he used such an ability on Tom at the start, I wonder how differently things could have gone.

“A good thing I’m such a brilliant queen, then,” I said with an air of smugness that made Snape grit his teeth. I pulled out the Philosopher’s Stone from my pocket. “Your traps were laughable.”

“ _YOU—!”_ Professor Snape’s face turned purple as he trembled. He was at a loss for words with how utterly furious he was with me. The other professors were torn between anger and relief.

“When did you—?”

“How?!”

“What in the heaven’s were you thinking?!”

“Christmas break,” I answered, then nodded at Snape. “Really disappointed the potions weren’t _all_ traps.”

The way his face immediately twisted told me: _I wanted to. I really did._

I nodded in understanding. _Yeah. I bet Dumbledore didn’t let him._

Professor Dumbledore walked over to me, and I placed the stone in his outstretched hand. He had such a wide smile on his face. It was impossible not to smile back when Professor Dumbledore grinned at you. “You’ve done very well, Miss Potter.”

“I wasn’t alone. Fred and George helped me,” I said, sensing he was about to give some house points. Professor McGonagall’s face contorted like she bit into a sour lemon when I said that. She looked especially Done™ with the twins that year. Poor lady. On the bright side, as soon as I placed the stone in Dumbledore’s hand Professor Snape visibly relaxed. Already I could see color return to him. The man was plainly terrified of having to go back to Voldemort. I couldn’t blame him, I wouldn’t want to be anyway near a wizard who was trigger-happy with Unforgiveables.

Honestly, I didn’t even want to think about the mad red gleam in that fucker’s eyes. The present day Voldemort was an abomination that needed to be scrubbed off the planet. I wasn’t sure if someone liked him deserved redemption, but I had no intentions of finding out. If any pieces of him deserved a second chance, it’d be the closest thing to a child version, one where he had done no wrong and only needed to correct his line of thinking.

It would have been nice to have been born prior to his birth—and aware of the fact—then maybe I could have prevented a lot of needless deaths. I had browsed time magic in my free time at Hogwarts. Everything about it was in the Restricted Section. For the moment, what was mentioned in it went so completely over my head I couldn’t understand most of it. I could vaguely recognize some equations used. It dabbled heavily in quantum mechanics which I did not study much in college, only my first two years as a “fun” elective. The rest of it kept mentioning ritual magic which I had no knowledge about and not only did Dumbledore remove them from the Restricted Section, but Sirius Black straight up ordered Kreacher to destroy any book related to ritual magic.

I could start using my contacts as Enáretos, but even if I obtained the books when would I have the time to read them? My only free time was at Hogwarts and it’d be difficult to read them privately without anyone noticing.

“It seems only reasonable that you each be rewarded 150 points, then.”

_Called it._

“That seems fair,” I said with an easy smile. “And, uh, no detentions, right?”

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. “Perish the thought.”

“Sweet. Next time you guys try to come up with traps, let me test them out for you.”

“Should such an occasion occur again, I will be sure to call on you,” said Professor Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “For the moment, though, I’m sure we would all love to hear about your daring adventure into the third corridor.”

“In my defense,” I said immediately as the other professors started to crowd me, “Paddy challenged my bravery because I was sorted into Slytherin and I had to put him in his place.”

“Completely understandable.”

“Where would you like me to begin?”

“The moment you decided to sneak in.”

“Ah… yes... It was a rainy Wednesday,” I began dramatically.

“ _Without_ the flair, Potter,” sternly warned Professor Snape. Thankfully his complexion had drastically improved.

I frowned. “But that’s the best part of the story. I was even going to embellish and add in a dramatic fight with the troll.”

“How _di_ _d_ you get past the traps?” Professor McGonagall asked, her tone dubious yet curious.

“The troll was easy. I lobbed a sleeping potion in its stupid mouth. The twins beat your chess board in like thirty minutes. I’m a Slytherin so _obviously_ Professor Snape’s puzzle was easy, but the twins also figured it out despite their lack of green and silver. Twins also caught the key. Mirror was odd, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out,” I explained before I began my lies. “The stone was a surprise. Clearly something would have been inside the mirror, or else why was it there? At the end of every dungeon there’s supposed to be loot, you know. A quest completed deserves a prize. I wanted to know what it was—”

“And not use it,” concluded Professor Dumbledore. “I see. And you did not share this with your professors?”

“I was going to leave it on Professor Snape’s desk anonymously at the end of the year,” I admitted honestly. “It was the thing stolen from Gringotts at the start of the year, right? That’s why it was in Hogwarts—for the security. That meant someone was looking for it, so if I advertised that I had it, they’d come looking for me, right? Better to see how it played out.”

Professor Dumbledore inclined his head, his eyes twinkling even harder. His smile only stretched wider as I went on with my explanation.

_How the hell does he do that twinkling thing and can I learn it?_

“Excellently thought out. Now, I’m sure we’d all love to hear the embellished version now—” Professor Dumbledore went on and I beamed in response, but Professor Snape glowered.

“The lies can wait. The stone is back with us, we should send her away before discussing what to do net,” the professor coolly pointed out.

“Aww. Can I come to your office later to tell the story about how the troll was secretly a king of trolls and I had to fight off an _army_ of them with the twins?”

“That sounds utterly delightful, Miss Potter. I will eagerly look forward to it.”

_I’ve officially adopted Professor Dumbledore as my soul grandpa. I love you, Soul Grandpa. Thank you for enabling me._

With a spring in my step, a smile in my heart, and the taste of sweet victory, I headed back to the Slytherin common room.

I would tell the babeh snakes the embellished story. It would only add to my infamy.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Professor Quirrel was bound to die. He was on borrowed time since possession slowly destroyed the body. Once he was dead—I wagered a month _at most_ —Voldemort would have to flee and try to come up with some new plan.

I felt confident that the Chambers thing would happen again, but anything beyond that would be a mystery. There was no one in Azkaban who could escape on their own.

Right? Right.

With no escapee Sirius Black hunting down Peter, he’d have no reason to seek out Voldemort and start up the Triwizard Tournament.

Right? Right.

Therefore, Voldemort wouldn’t be resurrected that easily. Heck, he may not have even known about Lily’s protection since it wasn’t Harry nor I who killed him again. If we were lucky when he bothered to show up again we’d be able to take full advantage of Lily’s sacrifice and poke him to death.

Right? Right.

Which meant after my second year I could fully focus on my dreams.

Voldemort didn’t deserve a second thought in my head.

_Right?_

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

With a skip in my step I, and my snake babehs, made our way down to the end-of-year feast. Even with George and Fred scoring an extra 300 House points, and Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup, Slytherin had them beat.

By only 10 points, but by golly did we have them beat.

I could only hope that Dumbledore wouldn’t come up with some last-minute points to dole out at the feast for Gryffindor to snag a victory. The fact that it was an honest possibility irritated me. I had worked damn hard to give Slytherin a new name.

Slytherin didn’t bully a single soul outside the House! Not one! I put in blood, sweat, and tears (not mine, obviously) to make those snakes behave for a whole year. Damn it I deserved the House Cup.

I took a seat in between Draco and Daphne—Daphne shot a haughty look over at Theodore and Pansy, the two had tried to shove each other out of the way to sit next to me—and let Iris out of my pocket. She deserved to enjoy the feast with us.

The Great Hall was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver, and a huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. I tentatively hoped it would stay that way.

More and more students filed into the Great Hall, babbling and chattering about too many things to discern. Only when Dumbledore arrived did the conversation fall flat.

“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully, your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts.

“Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place is Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six, Gryffindor with six hundred and twelve, and Slytherin with six hundred and twenty-two.”

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out at the Slytherin table.

“Yes, yes, well done,” Professor Dumbledore said, his gaze settling on me. “Congratulations to the Slytherin House for another year with the Cup.”

I gasped. _He’s—he’s not giving it to Gryffindor? No last-minute points? Nothing? Truly?_

Perhaps if puberty had hit me sooner I would have started sniffling and crying out of joy. Thankfully I had a couple more years, so I only grinned and gave him two thumbs up.

_Never thought I’d see the day._

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Then the year was over. Trunks were packed, goodbyes were exchanged, and promises to write were made.

I boarded the Hogwarts Express, the snake babehs arguing over who got to sit with me and Harry. With Hermione and Neville already taking up space, only Draco and Theodore were able to squeeze into the compartment fast enough. We were squashed together, but it was fine.

We had funny conversations on the way home. We laughed, played, and joked around with each other like perfectly normal children.

Like we were all actually friends.

Getting off the train was a chaotic mess, but when Harry and I saw Sirius there waiting for us, we ran to him. I sprinted and jumped into his arms and he swung me around while he laughed. Harry body-tackled into him, almost knocking him to the ground with his surprising strength, but Sirius stood firm.

“Welcome back,” Sirius told us. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” we said with a smile.

And so my first year at Hogwarts came to a quiet, but happy, close.

_Time to get ready for Riddle. I hope he’s not as hot as I fear he is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***
> 
> *****~***~*****
> 
> **ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**
> 
> It’s a holiday in my country which means double update.
> 
>  **Answer** : I’d probably get along best with Sprouts. I, like many, wish I could get along best with Snape.
> 
>  **Question:** What monster from Harry Potter would you hate to fight?
> 
> Reviews are **love**! 


	14. Year 2 - 1

**Beta: Cloudy**

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The first weekend of my summer I snuck out to Lunar’s Orchid to meet with the vampire.

Fenrir set it up for me. I had introduced myself to Fenrir in person first specifically so he could be with me when I met the vampire. I had no way of knowing how the vampire would treat me and I wanted someone I could trust beside me. Fenrir was dear to me and I had faith in him.

In Lunar’s Orchid I owned a decently sized building. It had a privacy fence and a lot more security wards than the other homes, but that was because I intended it to be used as my laboratory. I needed it to be secure for the kind of tests I had planned out. Only Fenrir, Kreacher, and Sil could access it after the security was put into place.

I didn’t have a good mind for decorating so I hired a witch who took care of it for me. She seemed to go with a night/plant themed witchy aesthetic that I oddly liked very much.

At eleven o’clock at night Fenrir guided the vampire into the backyard of that home, where I waited.

Under the waning moon, I sat on a stone bench in my black rose, black iris, and black hellebore garden. I had a fair few stone fountains around the area so it was calming to listen to the sound of running water. I wanted it to be relaxing—a place for me to step out and catch my breath in between research times.

Iris was at her full length—thirty feet long, and three feet in diameter—as she stretched out in the garden. She still had more growing left to do, but it was nice to see how big she was already getting. She lifted her head and flicked her tongue in the air when Fenrir and the vampire Anyo approached.

Anyo was maybe five foot seven inches. At a glance, he—she?—did not appear to be something as dangerous as a vampire. They were lithe, light on their feet as they moved closer to me. He—she??—wore a loose white blouse and tight black leather pants with knee-high black boots to go with. They had a pristine white porcelain mask over their face so I couldn’t see anything apart from silvery eyes gleaming underneath. Their white hair was feathery soft hair and gleamed under the moonlight.

As soon as Anyo reached me I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Do I call you they, he, or she? I’m sorry, if that offended you.”

“Any,” Anyo said, which did not help me decide. Everything about them was androgynous. Their figure could have been that of a pretty boy, or a boyish girl. Even their voice was too velvety soft to make me figure it out.

Anyo seemed amused by my mental struggle because they laughed and said, “Due to the patriarchal society of the European Wizarding world, perhaps _he_ would be best.”

“Okay, thank you,” I sighed with relief. Fenrir’s face screwed up at that. He shuffled closer to me so he could stand behind me while Anyo took a seat on the stone bench next to me.

Anyo cocked his head at me. “You’re not quite what I imagined.”

“You’re so much prettier than I imagined,” I sighed.

“You can’t see my face?”

“In my head you’re even prettier.”

He laughed, the sound sweet and melodic.

Anyo shifted his weight to turn to me. “Fenrir mentioned you want to… _perfect_ the lycanthrope curse?”

“Mm-hmm. I don’t suppose _you’ve_ already studied it?”

“Vampire magic is very different from what a witch can do,” he answered. My eyes widened as he said that. The books I had read had very little information on what vampires could do. He must have noticed my interest because I felt him smile at me behind the mask. “Vampire magic is more illusionary. We do not affect the world around us like witches.”

“That’s still really neat,” I sincerely praised. “Could you make an illusion feel so real to a person it affects _them_? Like if they die in the illusion they believe it so much they die in real life?”

“What a morbid question!” Anyo laughed again, this time louder and warmer. “Truly powerful elder vampires could, but it is not a common thing. Our magic is used more to keep our society safe as we hunt for our food.”

I nodded, accepting his answer. A thought occurred to me. “Anyo… can vampires make potions?”

“Under certain circumstances,” Anyo said. “When a potion requires a spell we usually have to substitute it for an enchanted rune.”

“Enchanted rune?”

“A rune that a witch or wizard will load a spell into. Vampires rarely need potions so there isn’t a high market for them.”

I frowned, a little disappointed. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to have someone else with more experience assist me.”

Anyo placed a hand over his chest. “While I do not brew potions on the regular, I _am_ an elder and perhaps my experience could still be of use to you.”

“Would you like to join me in my experiments, then?”

“It would be quite fascinating if you would care to invite me.”

“Consider yourself invited. Every insane potioneer should have a pretty assistant,” I joked. Anyo did not laugh, but I felt like he was amused by that statement. “Come on, I’ll show you the lab I’ve got set up. Ah, Fenrir, I already gave you a tour, right?”

Fenrir mutely shook his head.

I grinned and offered out my hand to him. “Then you better come along, too, my friend.”

The grizzled werewolf’s smile as he accepted my hand was as adorable as a puppy wagging its tail.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Under the sweltering sun, I laid flat on my back. The grass beneath me was cool, and when the wind blew the sun didn’t feel quite so horrible. Harry was sprawled out next to me, blearily glaring up at the clear blue sky.

Together we laid in our backyard, sweaty and uncomfortable.

“Can we go inside yet?” Harry croaked. “I’m dying.”

“Depends, you gonna throw up again?”

“Hopefully not.”

Remus had a horrible time of the month. The morning after he stumbled home and proceeded to lose whatever dinner his werewolf form had scarfed down all over the living room. That made Harry throw up when he got downstairs. Sirius proceeded to slip in Harry’s mess, then get sick himself which just set Remus off again.

I, a reincarnated medical student, dragged Harry outside to get fresh air. I laid him in the grass, then I dragged Sirius out the front and laid him under the shade. Finally, with my lovely Wingardium Leviosa I got the unconscious Remus bathed, in new clothes, and tucked into bed.

I would have started cleaning up the mess, but when Kreacher returned from grocery shopping and saw—

“EVERYONE OUT! EVERYONE OUT! KREACHER MUST CLEAN THE STUPID MUTT’S MESS!”

So now I laid in the grass next to Harry, envious of the unconscious Remus who got to sleep in the cool house.

“It’ll probably be awhile before it’s ready,” I admitted to Harry. “What do you want to do?”

“It’s too hot to want to do anything other than die,” he muttered.

“Wanna sneak out?”

“And go where?”

“I dunno. You got money on you?”

Harry dug around in his pockets. “Little bit.”

“Wanna go window shopping?”

“In this heat?”

“I’m sure Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour will be cool,” I reasoned.

Harry sat up abruptly, his eyebrows raised. “They’ll kill us if we’re gone too long.”

“Sirius won’t be able to resist napping under this sun, and Remus is out cold. If we bring back ice cream for them both they won’t complain,” I said cheerfully. “C’mon, I’ll even let you drive the broom.”

“Nah. Better idea. I’ll race you there, and whoever is last gets to pay.”

“You little shit. I’m in.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

We were still grounded. But only for a day because ice-cream was a great bribe to reduce our sentencing.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

My main home in Lunar’s Orchid was primarily a laboratory. There were three levels—a main floor, a second floor, and a big-ass basement. The top floor was one room with a skylight ceiling—very similar to greenhouses—and had a bunch of standard potion-ingredient plants that grew all around the sides. I had purchased a House Elf specifically to tend to the plants in this home and monitor it.

Her name was Sil. She was young by House Elf standards—only twenty-four—but I (as my alias through Fenrir) was repeatedly assured that she could take care of any gardening desire.

I would have loved to have had only Kreacher, but he was too busy tending to our family as a whole. It would put too much of a burden on him to take care of our home in addition to my second home. A second House Elf was an ideal solution.

In honor of Dobby I did _offer_ Sil the choice to work for me with wages instead of a contract, but she wailed and started sobbing so I reassured her that a standard contract was fine.

I wasn’t comfortable with slavery, but I had to acknowledge my limitations. I was not all powerful. My free time was devoured by my preparation of obtaining wealth and power, and helping the werewolves. I simply did not have the time or energy to devote that level of dedication to freeing House Elves yet.

I was not ignoring them. House Elf abuse was not something to be taken lightly. Worst of all, for all intents and purposes it looks like they had literally been bred to be subservient through a contract. A House Elf with no master would die off within a decade if not sooner. Some House Elves died of grief within minutes of their master’s death.

Hermione had worked hard in the canonical story to try and give them freedom, but none wanted it. I could only conclude that they physically could not handle freedom yet either due to psychosomatic symptoms, a magical issue, or a physical limitation on their bodies. Dobby could have been a mutation.

Something I couldn’t just blindly rush into and forcibly free them. Winky had nearly killed herself after being given “freedom.”

It would be irresponsible, reckless, and arrogant to rush through their freedom. For their own sake I needed to be able to dedicate the time and energy to properly research the safest way to free them.

At the moment, I simply could not devote that level of dedication. I was only one human and I was already being stretched pretty thin.

Sil was given—as a uniform, not a gift, so it didn’t free her—a cute flowery apron and dress to wear with matching boots. She had an option of clothes made available to her—as a uniform, I had to repeatedly stress to her, not as a gift. I didn’t want her to get cold in the winter, or too hot in the summer, after all. And if something got torn up beyond repair, she had other options.

She was instructed to take care of the House, and to come to me when I called her name. She couldn’t teleport to Hogwarts like Kreacher—Kreacher was registered as Black&Potter’s House Elf and as long as a Black or Potter went to Hogwarts he could apparate inside—but she could come to my actual home. The wards did nothing to prevent House Elf entry, apparently.

It would be easy to sneak back and forth to my lab in Lunar’s Orchid and my bedroom back home with her.

My laboratory was on the top floor, and in the basement. It was pretty much just _lots_ of potion workbenches, each filled with different cauldrons. Where there wasn’t a potion there was a bookshelf crammed full of ingredients and books.

I had dozens upon dozens of cauldrons up for testing. After all, some potions required different lengths of brewing time. To experiment, I would have to make the same potion over and over and over again and adjust the time in between stirs or ingredients added. Luckily for me there wasn’t a potion that took longer than a lunar cycle to make, so I was willing to bet a pretty penny what I had in mind wouldn’t exceed that.

Speaking of potions… they were odd.

If someone was good at chemistry in a past life, they’d be ass at making potions in the Potterverse.

If someone was a great poet in a past life, they’d be a genius at making potions in the Potterverse.

The art of potion-making was delightfully ridiculous and yet completely understandable. For example, when you tossed oh say strawberries into a pot over heat they’d eventually melt. But if you tossed those same strawberries into a potion they’d flippity flappity explode in a puff of cloud of super fine grains—almost dust—before settling into the potion.

All sweets turned to “dust” when tossed into a potion. Why? Because sweet like sugar and sugar was a fine grain like “dust”. Sugar in potions did make them taste sweet, but it also meant you had to start stirring the potion clockwise. Clockwise was for _good_ and anti-clockwise was for _bad_. Good potions were healing potions. Bad potions were destructive potions. Everything in between utilized clockwise and anti-clockwise.

Sweet and spicy were good. Salt and bitter were bad. Dry was neutral.

Sweet-tasting stuff exploded into dust, spicy erupted into flame, salty condensed into a rock, bitter turned to sludge, and dry lamely dissolved.

In terms of science none of it sounded sane, but in terms of what a toddler or poet might think of, it made perfect sense.

Then you got to the magical ingredients, and _oh my God_ what a trip.

Unicorn hair had thirteen different results depending on what was already added to the potion. Twelve of those results would only happen if the potion was considered _good_ and if it was any other type—bad or neutral—then the unicorn hair would turn the whole thing into the magical equivalent of a block of dry ice.

Fascinating.

Now here was the tricky thing.

I wanted to start with a painless transition potion for werewolves.

Did the potion count as _good_ since my intention was to take away pain, or _bad_ because werewolves were considered dark creatures? I had to pick one of those paths since they would take me down drastically different ways to experiment. They would require opposite ingredients, and if I chose wrongly the first time it would turn into a huge waste of time.

How could I possibly choose?

With a coin flip.

_C’mon magical luck, kick in and give me a good answer._

The coin landed right in between the crack of the floorboard of my top floor laboratory.

_Fuck you magical luck._

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The first full moon of the summer was a special one. I had discussed previously with Anyo on theories of which direction we could take the potion, but all of that had merely been theories.

I had studied the blood samples Fenrir had kindly collected for me.

Blood was essential in magical rituals. Blood was the strongest medium to use for curses. I felt very certain that the lycanthrope curse relied on blood, or could be found in the blood. While the lycanthrope curse most often spread through bite infections, there had been cases where healers become infected due to mishandling the cursed blood.

The blood Fenrir procured was at a glance, perfectly normal.

I didn’t have access to advance medical equipment, so the exams I conducted weren’t more advance than testing for reactions and monitoring under a microscope. The blood behaved and looked like standard human blood, nothing out of the ordinary.

The only way, I concluded, to see a physical difference would be to examine the blood under a full moon.

That came with another issue, because I had no idea if the blood would react accordingly after being out of the body for so long.

Ideally…

Ideally I needed a werewolf who was willing to let me draw blood from them under the full moon.

I explained as much to Fenrir, broaching the subject with complete honesty. He listened patiently. When his brow furrowed as some of my words, I took the time to further explain them. He had never had a science class, let alone a biology lesson, so it took longer than anticipated but he eventually understood what I needed and why I needed it.

“Go’ be me,” Fenrir said firmly. “On’y one yeh can trust.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “But only if you’re comfortable with it. I’ll… I’ll have to chain you.”

Fenrir shifted on the couch, clear discomfort flickering over his face.

Even with wolfsbane there was no guarantee he wouldn’t try to bite me. I had nothing against become a werewolf on principle, but it would certainly make things infinitely more difficult. He knew that, but he detested the idea of being chained during a transformation. It was already a painful, horrible, process. Fenrir was as used to it as any werewolf could be, but being bound during it could make it so much worse.

He didn’t speak for several minutes, his hands clasped tightly together as he thought it over. I didn’t pressure him at all.

It would be a terrible night for him. He would be bound, gagged, and helpless as I forcibly withdrew blood from him for testing. He wouldn’t understand it in his wolf form, which would make it all the more terrifying.

I wasn’t going to force that upon him. Whatever he decided, I would respect his wish and move on from there.

“Okay,” said Fenrir. “Okay.”

“You can change your mind—”

“No.” Fenrir looked out the window at Lunar’s Orchid so I could not see his face. “I cannot. I trust yeh.”

I placed a hand over top his own.

He was more than twice my size, but at that moment he just seemed like a scared, small boy.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Anyo and Fenrir rigged up the testing area. Fenrir had taken his wolfsbane potion and nervously allowed us to chain him in the laboratory. A healer at Lunar’s Orchid had kindly set up a few monitoring wards in the laboratory—no questions asked—that would alert me if Fenrir lost too much blood, if his heart rate elevated to a dangerous level for a werewolf on the full moon, or if the chains were under too much distress.

Anyo had been reviewing some blood biology books I had brought over. He was already well versed in human biology—which was a pleasant surprise—but he had not studied up on canine biology. I hadn’t either until a few years ago, I couldn’t claim to be an expert. I felt like I understood _enough_ that I could spot differences between lycanthrope blood and canine blood at the very least.

All that was left to do was wait.

Fenrir shivered in the laboratory as the full moon began to climb into the sky. He—

The transformation—

It—

The movie did not do the horrors correctly.

It was not quick. It didn’t happen within _minutes_. It happened within _hours_. Hours of skin ripping, blood pooling and gushing then sizzling away into a dark mist after an hour of being outside the body, bones snapping and crunching, screams and whimpers of absolute agony, and just—

Wrong. It was _wrong_. Looking at it hurt. From a medical perspective watching it felt like I was witnessing some absurd Hollywood grotesque film. As if it were disturbing for the sake of being disturbing. It was hard to accept what I was witnessing as a reality because of how utterly horrific it was.

Disgust swelled in the pit of my stomach, but it did not stop me from working.

I wrote down what I saw, taking notes at how some bones were repeatedly broken—specifically the spine chord snapped and reconfigured the most, despite the fact that it was the skull that underwent the most significant transformation—and that I had not anticipated that werewolf blood would literally disappear after an hour of being outside the body.

I even checked the previous vials of werewolf blood I had collected, and they also disappeared an hour after the full moon went up.

So werewolf blood could not be collected in mass. It would vanish upon the first full moon, one hour after being outside the body.

That was… good news, and it made sense. It would prevent werewolf blood from becoming a biological weapon. It explained why no Dark Lord had thought to use it as a grenade, or a way to poison a water system previously. The blood was only contagious on the full moon, and if it could only survive one hour outside the body that didn’t give enough time to properly utilize it as a weapon. Or at least not enough to bother when one could simply use _actual_ grenades and poison.

Anyo did the first withdrawal from Fenrir, causing the partially-transformed werewolf to howl in rage. Anyo was professional, though, and did not hesitate or falter in his movements. He placed a few drops on some slides under each microscope and we examined what we saw.

Obviously it was terribly weird.

I had expected _all_ the blood cells to undergo a transformation, but that was inaccurate. There were some human cells, some cells that looked remarkably similar to—

_No… surely, not?_

“Anyo, hand me _Everything Canis Lepophagus_ ,” I quickly asked Anyo, who was examining his own sample under the microscope.

“You saw it, too?” Any asked, pulling out the thick textbook and placing it between us.

Canis lepophagus lived in the early Pliocene in North America. It was considered—thus far—to be the original father of the modern day wolf and coyote. Scientists had tracked the canine history as best they could, with many proposing their own visions or ideas to what the evolution appeared as.

The author of _Everything Canis Lepophagus_ had created several simulations to what those extinct species would look like if dissected and examined thoroughly today. They had produced several iterations using different beginning information in the simulation, and one of those iterations looked remarkably like what I saw under a microscope.

I flipped through the page, only vaguely remembering the odd cellular pattern.

_Ah._

“Oh my,” I said out loud, already reeling from that projection. “Anyo, do you happen to know when exactly the first werewolf was spotted?”

“Not off the top of my head, but I’m _quite_ certain it was much later than that,” said Anyo, perplexed as he compared the picture and what he saw under the microscope.

“How,” I wondered, “ _exactly_ does a curse barely a few centuries old looks like it has DNA from a species that died out _sixteen thousand years ago_?”

“I confess I am at a loss.”

For reasons I could not currently fathom, the lycanthrope curse transformed _some_ cells into what looked like canis dirus cells—the dire wolf.

 _How? How is that_ possible _? What kind of magic is this?_

“Were dire wolves magical creatures?” I whispered in awe.

“Not as far as I am aware,” Anyo said, tapping on the table in thought. “Oh. I do wonder, though… some rituals use bones, don’t they?”

“That’s— _OH MY GOSH! FOSSILS!”_ I shrieked, causing Fenrir to howl. I quickly put my hands over my mouth as the pieces rapidly fell into place.

Dark rituals required blood, _or bones_ , to be used. The older the bone the stronger the ritual. How friggin’ powerful would a sixteen thousand-year-old fossil make a ritual?

“It must have been incomplete,” I went on. “Not all the cells are transforming.”

“Which would cause a half state—half man and half wolf,” Anyo concluded.

“Yes. They likely didn’t have access to a complete skeleton,” I said, thinking quickly. “So… what…”

_If I could reverse engineer that ritual and get a hold of a complete dire wolf skeleton—or at least more than what they had—could I complete it?_

The thought sent chills down my spine.

_One thing at a time, Rosie. You don’t know enough about rituals to even consider going down that road. But now—_

“I feel confident saying that we can treat lycanthrope as a botched ritual,” I said. “There’s already a set up guideline healers use to treat that. Let’s review, test some individual ingredients on the blood we collect tonight, and re-evaluate in the morning.”

“I will follow your lead, my lady.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

After having robbed almost every museum / absurdly rich Muggle in Great Britain that didn’t have absurd security that would require very obvious magic to beat, it was time to move on to another country. In honor of _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ I chose France. Thankfully France was one of the countries connected via the floo network to Britain so I didn’t have to worry about setting up an international portkey.

The real downside to having robbed so many Muggle places was that the aurors were so definitely on to me and I was starting to have a few close shaves.

If I didn’t have a Deathly Hallow-grade invisibility cloak my ass woulda been caught years ago.

_But that’s what makes being a thief so fun! There’s nothing like the thrill of the chase._

To be an extra dick about it, I started leaving a rose as my calling card a couple of years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***
> 
> **Bucket List Completed:**
> 
> 27\. Begin courting vampires through alias
> 
> **ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**
> 
> Hope y’all like my take on how the werewolf curse came to be.
> 
> See you next week!
> 
>  **Answer:** The basilisk would terrify me during it, but losing to a dementor would be so much worse. Basilisk it’s over instant, dementor? Good chance to get stuck with eternal torment.
> 
>  **Question:** If you were an international thief, what would be your calling card & media name?
> 
> Reviews are **love**! 


	15. Year 2 - 2

I took a seat on the cream-colored couch next to Harry, turned over then sprawled over his lap so I could hang my legs off the arm of the couch. My twin didn’t bat an eye, merely lifting his book up long enough for me to relax. I yawned and closed my eyes, ready to take a nap.

Spending a whole night thieving like a badass and brewing potions with Anyo made me pretty tired. As much as I enjoyed my summer vacation, I was spending it more like a summer work program than an actual vacation. I’d get more sleep at Hogwarts.

On the bright side, I could officially claim I was a master at werewolf biology. Really not that different from human biology except the cells were mind-bogglingly buoyant and when prodded at they transitioned closer to canine cells. 

Pretty weird. Even weirder to see it under a microscope. Had to give props to the author of  _ Everything Canis Lepophagus  _ for a surprisingly accurate proposed simulation to the dire wolf. Or at least what Anyo and I theorized to be the dire wolf. We could very well be wrong in our hypothesis, but it was the only thing we had to go on for the moment. It made sense. Something as powerful as the lycanthrope curse had to be done with a very powerful medium and a fossil would be damn strong. 

_ Could I make were-dinos?  _

A thought for later. 

“Oh dear,” I heard Remus exclaim. He sat in the kitchen at the table—our downstairs was an open space with only a half wall to divide the kitchen from the living room. “It looks like our aurors are teaming up with France’s aurors to hunt down this Gentleman Rose thief.”

“Gentleman who?” Harry asked.

“For several years a nasty wizard has been targeting Muggle museums, art galleries, auction houses, millionaires, and so on. The past few years he’s left behind a rose as his calling card, so the media has been calling him Gentleman Rose.”

“Why  _ gentleman? _ ” Harry was intrigued. “If he’s a nasty wizard, I mean.”

“No one’s been hurt.”

“And now he’s… what? Targeting France?”

“It looks like it.”

“Wicked.”

“ _ Harry! _ ”

I could feel Harry shrug. “Morality aside, it’s impressive to have gone so long without getting caught. He must be pretty smart.”

I cleared my throat. “Less talking, please. I’m trying to nap.”

Harry shoved me out of his lap, I toppled to the floor. “Go take a nap in your room.”

“Rude,” I sniffed. “It's your obligation to be my pillow when I need to nap. That’s why we shared a womb.”

“I’ll have to fail that obligation, then,” he said dryly. “So sorry to disappoint.”

I woefully sighed, rolling over on the carpet to look up at Remus with a hopeful expression. Remus quirked an eyebrow and said, “Rosie, I’m not going to try cuddling with you on the full moon, please stop asking.”

“But—”

“Ask again and I’ll ground you.”

“Damn it.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I idly stirred potion 12B (batch 12, cauldron B) clockwise while Anyo stirred 12C clockwise. 

“So…. can vampires go into sunlight?”

“Goodness no.”

“There isn’t even a spell for it?”

“Why  _ would  _ there be? Vampires tend to get nauseous around wizards. It’s too much of a discomfort for most vampires to form a friendship, let alone ask a wizard to craft a spell for them. And wizards have repeatedly told us being around us makes them feel like a baby dementor is bothering them. Did you know some have even tried to cast the patronus charm against me?” Anyo sounded scandalized by that last part. “A patronus! Why would that do  _ anything  _ to a vampire?”

I snorted and bit the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing. “What an idiot. I don’t even know what they’re talking about—I feel nothing but happy being next to you. You’re so pretty.”

He shook his head. I couldn’t see his face behind the porcelain white mask, but I thought he was smiling at me. “You’re an exception, Rosie. Although I am hesitant to take off the mask and smell you in case you do make me nauseous. I think it would be rather rude of me to get sick at the scent of you.”

“I would be deeply offended,” I said while nodding. “Deeply,  _ deeply  _ offended. Why, our friendship might even be ruined.”

“How terrible,” he teased. 

“It would be a tragedy to lose you. There’s so few eye-candies in this world,” I bemoaned. 

Suddenly both of our potions exploded in a burst of red smoke. I had set up plenty of standard protection charms on us both—I could use my wand in Lunar’s Orchid as the trace was placed over it similarly to Hogwarts—so we weren’t hurt, but it was still startling.

And frustrating. 

I glared at the now empty cauldron. “Butter biscuits. This is tricky business. Maybe I should look into finding a third opinion.”

“My sister is returning home soon,” Anyo said. “She married a veela who has both a Muggle degree in veterinarian science and has taken Healer courses. She doesn’t have a wand, but she knows the theory by heart. Perhaps she might be able to assist?”

“Do you think she would?”

“I believe her wife would be willing to help in exchange for… a few items.”

“Such as?”

“Nothing too strange. I understand she is very fond of gemstones.”

I smiled sweetly. “Does she care if they’re obtained illegally?”

Anyo laughed warmly at me. “I think it would make her all the happier.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

“So…” I drawled it out as I wrapped my arms around Sirius from behind. He was sitting at his favorite chair in the kitchen, tinkering with an odd contraption in his hands. “Can we go shopping with the Weasleys this summer? Fred and George promised to buy me a new book.”

“And why would they do that?” Sirius asked me, turning his head to place a chaste kiss on my cheek. 

“I may have wagered a bet. They may have lost.”

“Mm-hmm. It’s been a couple of months since I’ve seen Arthur and Molly, and that’s far too long.”

I kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

“It’s impossible not to,” Sirius said cheekily. 

“Even dementors would swoon for you.”

He chuckled at that.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

When it was time to go shopping, Sirius, Harry, and I floo’d over to the Weasleys for breakfast. Molly and Arthur were ever so pleased to see Sirius again. Apparently Sirius had visited Molly several times during while we were at Hogwarts. 

I had wondered what he did with all that free time. He had enough money between the Black and Potter fortune to not need a job, but Sirius Black was never one to sit still. I knew he had been studying curse-breaking and warding for the past few years, but aside from that? No clue.

Luckily for me Molly answered that question with, “Did you catch the latest drama?”

“I cannot  _ believe  _ that witch Sally-Ann would do such a thing,” Sirius told her.

“What a waste,” Molly nodded. 

Sirius Black listened to the magical equivalent of soap opera dramas over the radio with Molly Weasley.

Beautiful.

While Sirius started helping Molly with breakfast—“Always such a dear, aren’t you!”—I eagerly explored the burrow. 

The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle. There was an old fashioned wooden clock on the wall opposite. It had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like  _ Time to make tea _ , _ Time to feed the chickens _ , and _ You’re late _ . Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like  _ Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking _ , and O _ ne Minute Feasts—It’s Magic _ ! 

Already up and waiting for us were Fred and George who gave me their charming Cheshire grin. I rushed forward, hugging George first then Fred.

“Good to see you both in person. Writing letters isn’t the same,” I said, giving both their hands a friendly squeeze. 

“We have been told we are devilishly handsome,” Fred said with a firm nod.

“The most handsome blokes on the Gryffindor Quidditch team in fact,” George added with great confidence.

I reached up and pinched both their cheeks. “Cocky little shits.” 

“Cocky little shi—”

“ _ You two better not finish that!”  _ Molly rounded on them, holding up her wooden stirring spoon like a weapon. The twins flinched away from her.

Harry glanced around the kitchen some more before offering Molly a polite smile. “Your home feels warm.”

“Aren’t you sweet? Thank you, dear.” Molly was all smiles for me and Harry. 

The next Weasley to greet the morning was Ron. He came down the stairs in his pajamas, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Mornin… uh, Harry?”

“Hello Ron,” Harry politely greeted his Housemate. 

“What’re you doing here?”

“Rosie wanted to do school shopping with Fred and George,” Harry explained, gesturing to me. I cheerfully waved at Ron. 

“They owe me a book,” I said and the twins sighed. “A big, fancy book.”

“Should have known to bet against a snake,” Fred muttered.

“You really should have,” I agreed.

Ron shrugged, nonplussed by the news. He took a seat at the kitchen table beside Harry and asked, “Good summer mate?”

“Not bad actually,” Ron said with an easy smile. “Did you catch the games?”

Harry perked up, eyes brightening. “Did you hear the one last night?”

“Oh man, did I—”

Yeah, I really didn’t care to listen to two boys gush over Quidditch. Fred offered me a seat in between him and George—a truly dangerous position for those not brave, but I rose to the challenge. 

At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again. 

“Ginny,” muttered Ron in an annoyed tone to Harry. “My sister. She’s been talking about you all summer.” 

“Yeah, she’ll be wanting your autograph, Harry,” Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother’s eye and wisely mimed the motion of zipping his lips. 

“His not mine?” I asked, jokingly offended.

“ _ Your  _ not a handsome bloke,” George mocked.

“What a pity.”

The twins snickered. 

“Where’s Arthur?” Sirius asked Molly while he whipped up his famous soufflé pancake batter.

“Had to work last night, I’m afraid,” Molly tutted. “He should be back in time for breakfast.”

Indeed, perhaps fifteen minutes later Arthur Weasley came in through the floo. He slumped into the nearest kitchen chair with his glasses off and eyes closed. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children’s. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn. 

“What a night,” he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. “Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned...” Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed. 

“Find anything, Dad?” asked Fred eagerly. 

“All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle,” yawned Mr. Weasley. “There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn’t my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that’s the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness…”

“Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?” said George. 

“Just Muggle-baiting,” sighed Mr. Weasley. “Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it. Of course, it’s very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking—they’ll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they’ll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it’s staring them in the face… But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn’t believe—”

Arthur was interrupted by a couple of Hogwarts owls entering the kitchen with their Hogwarts letters. Like clockwork, they arrived at the same day every year, the day not even changing since Sirius went to school. 

Harry and I accepted our letter—I noticed Fred and George were also cursed to share a letter due to being twins. Molly hollered up at Ginny to come down for her letter, and the youngest Weasley did so while Harry and I read through ours. As we read, Sirius and Molly began to pile food on each of our plates. 

**SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:**

_ The Standard Book of Spells _ , Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk 

_ Break with a Banshee _ by Gilderoy Lockhart 

_ Gadding with Ghouls _ by Gilderoy Lockhart 

_ Holidays with Hags _ by Gilderoy Lockhart 

_ Travels with Trolls _ by Gilderoy Lockhart 

_ Voyages with Vampire _ s by Gilderoy Lockhart 

_ Wanderings with Werewolves _ by Gilderoy Lockhart 

_ Year with the Yeti  _ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at my shoulder. 

“You’ve been told to get all Lockhart’s books, too!” he said. “The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan—bet it’s a witch.” 

At this point, Fred caught his mother’s eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade. 

“That lot won’t come cheap,” said George, with a quick look at his parents. “Lockhart’s books are really expensive.” 

“Well, we’ll manage,” said Molly, but she looked worried. “I expect we’ll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny’s things secondhand.”

“Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?” Harry asked Ginny. 

She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately not a lot of her siblings saw that, because just then Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest. 

“Morning, all,” said Percy briskly. “Lovely day.” 

He sat down in the only remaining chair and nodded to Harry and me. 

“Let’s tuck in then head out shall we?” Arthur asked as Sirius plopped down beside him. 

“Oh!” Sirius clapped his hands together. “All right if Harry’s Housemate joins us, too? She’s a Muggleborn so her parents aren’t quite used to Diagon Alley.”

“But of course!” Arthur all but gleefully exclaimed. 

“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely. 

“Invited Hermione?” I asked.

“She was worried about her parents getting overwhelmed,” Harry explained. “Be kind?”

“I won’t run them off,” I promised. Then I paused as I considered it. “Not intentionally, at least.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

We met up with the Granger family outside Gringotts. Hermione was ever so happy to see us again. She hugged me first! I might have raced Harry to get to her in order to get the first hug, but still. 

“You’re Muggles!” exclaimed Arthur right away with utter delight. “We must have a drink! What’s that you’ve got there? Oh, you’re changing Muggle money. Molly, look!” He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger’s hand.

“Come now Arthur,” Sirius said, he put an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and dragged him off. “Away we go!”

We pulled out our money then exited the bank.

Back outside on the marble steps, we all began to separate. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Molly and Ginny were going to a secondhand robe shop. Arthur was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink and Sirius was never one to turn down the chance to socially drink. 

“We’ll all meet at  _ Flourish and Blotts _ in an hour to buy your school books,” said Molly, setting off with Ginny. “And not one step down Knockturn Alley!” she shouted at the twins’ retreating backs.

Harry, Hermione, and to my delighted surprise,  _ Ron  _ headed off on their own down the winding, cobbled street.

I had other plans.

_ Knockturn Alley here I come!  _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Knockturn Alley was poorly lit, seemed to be allergic to basic hygiene, and yet smelled like a delicious roast of dark chocolate. I wandered about for a little while, easily evading those that tried to approach me. Then I spotted a familiar head of platinum blond hair and I skipped over.

“‘Ello Draco!” I greeted him cheerfully. Draco and Lucius Malfoy were standing outside an antique shop named  _ Borgin and Burkes.  _

Draco turned to me in shock, his gray eyes widening. Lucius Malfoy held his own surprise well hidden, only offering me a courtesy thin smile. Draco asked me, “What are you doing here, Rosie?”

“Sneaking around. We came with the Weasleys to do school shopping, but then Mrs. Weasley told us not to go down Knockturn Alley so  _ obviously  _ I went here first,” I explained.

Draco snickered. “That sounds about right.”

“Then you are without an escort?” Lucius smoothly inquired.

“Unfortunately yes.”

“I can escort you,” Draco offered, holding out his arm. 

“Why, thank you,” I said, hooking my arm through his. “Is that okay, Lord Malfoy?”

“It would be discourteous to leave a young witch unattended to,” the handsome wizard softly returned. 

“Lovely! Please lead the way.”

With Draco’s guidance, I got a proper tour of Knockturn Alley. Lucius was content to walk further behind us, carefully watching our interaction. Draco appeared eager to show his father that he had established a good friendship with one of the Twins-Who-Lived, and from the brief moments I caught Lucius smiling I could only assume Lord Malfoy was pleased by that development. 

It was interesting to see the different shops down Knockturn. I understood why it got such a bad reputation, considering some ingredients they were selling were both unsavory and dangerous. The only place I was able to make a safe purchase was from  _ Borgin and Burkes.  _ I bought the Hand of Glory—a dark artifact that took the appearance of a shriveled hand. It would only give candlelight to the holder, and could even shine through a veil created by Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder which is resistant to most light-creation spells.

Such an artifact was perfect for a thief. Lord Malfoy didn’t comment on my choice of purchases, but Draco thought it was super wicked and I promised him he could borrow it whenever he wanted. 

Another artifact I purchased there was a flame holder made out of some type of porcelain and shaped like a small human skull. Any fire lit in the holder would stay lit indefinitely until the person who lit the fire in the first place blew it out. Perfect for when I wanted to plot an evil scheme at my desk in near darkness except for a single lit candle. 

The last purchase there I had no reasonable explanation for. It was a rock that had something carved into it. From the jagged edges on one side, and the smooth rounded part on the other, I could only conclude it was a piece of something bigger. 

The moment I touched it, I felt a rush of warmth and—I know it’s going to sound weird  _ but _ I had no other word for it.

I felt the color blue.

Warmth… and blue.

Super weird, I knew. 

Draco thought the stone was warm, but he had nothing else to comment about it other than that.

I decided to purchase it, intrigued by it.

Maybe I could find the rest of it? 

When the tour came to an end as thanks I placed a friendly kiss on Draco’s cheek—he grinned triumphantly at his father who gave him a satisfied smile in return—then headed off to meet my family at the bookstore. 

As I approached it, I saw a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows: 

**_GILDEROY LOCKHART_ **

**will be signing copies of his autobiography**

**_MAGICAL ME_ **

**today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.**

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Molly’s age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, “Calmly, please, ladies… Don’t push, there... mind the books now...”

With careful ease, I slipped inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. As much of a moron he was in the book series I had to reluctantly admit he was handsome. He had a face that a Hollywood actor would be envious of, complete with those shiny golden locks and too-white-to-be-natural pearly smile. 

I grabbed one of the books I needed and then snuck up the line to where the rest of my family and the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger. 

“Oh, there you are, good,” said Molly. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. “We’ll be able to see him in a minute...”

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash. “Out of the way, there,” he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. “This is for the Daily Prophet —” 

“Big deal,” said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it. Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. 

He looked up. He saw Ron and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leaped to his feet and positively shouted, “It can’t be Harry Potter?” 

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry’s arm before anyone could react, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry’s face turned redder than cherries as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys. “Nice big smile, Harry,” said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. “Where’s your sister—Ah!”

To my absolute horror, Lockhart made a move to grab me, but Sirius was prepared that time and snatched his hand and pulled Harry back over to me.

“Not very polite to make a grab at a young girl,” Sirius said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Apologies for the misunderstanding. I only meant to offer a chance for the young twins to be presented—for free, of course—my autobiography,” Lockhart smoothly said with his award-winning smile. 

“How kind,” came Sirius’s saccharine sardonic response. 

“Naturally,” Lockhart demurred. “It only makes sense to have a proper introduction now since we’ll be seeing each other more often in September. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Lockhart had turned to the cheering and clapping crowd at that last statement. 

“Hogwarts professors don’t put their hands on students.” Sirius’s eyes were now narrowed, and he made it a point to push Harry and me behind him. 

Lockhart’s smile didn’t falter. “Thank you, Lord Black.”

Oooooh. Sirius was definitely glaring now. I hadn’t seen him that angry since Remus decided to sleep in an alleyway instead of coming home because he didn’t want to be a “burden” or some other bullshit. Sirius threw such a hissy fit and had to physically haul Remus back home. It turned into a brawl between the two that had them both in the hospital with broken bones and black eyes. Remus started sleeping at home from then on.

Knowing Sirius wasn’t about to break eye contact—it was a dog thing, dogs didn’t break eye contact with those they wanted to rip their throats out, you see—I decided it was the best if Harry and I slipped away. 

The moment we tried though Sirius lost interest in Lockhart and the press swarmed in on the soon-to-be professor to ask him questions. Sirius put on a jolly smile and assessed our large group. 

“Welp, guess I will be the one paying for these books,” Sirius said with good cheer.

“Sirius Black you will  _ not _ ,” Molly sternly told him.

“How dare you! Did you not make me Ginny’s godfather?”

Ginny let out an  _ eep  _ while Molly laughed and rolled her eyes. “We most certainly did not.”

“Well,” Sirius blustered, “I am declaring her my goddaughter now. Harry and Rosie are impossible to spoil nowadays. Did you know Rosie won’t let me buy her any more unicorns?”

“Unicorns?” echoed a mischievous Fred.

“Shut. Up. Now,” I hissed at Sirius.

“It’s too late,” Sirius said, throwing a literal sack of galleons at the counter. “They’re bought! Let me spoil, damn it.”

“You are impossible to deal with,” Molly scolded him, poking a finger in his chest. But her eyes were warm and her tone held no malice. 

“Impossibly handsome.”

“We know the feeling,” George added.

“Look, you gotta give me godship over these two at least!” Sirius said, placing a hand atop both boys' heads. “They’re everything I ever wanted in a marauder successor.”

“Words hurt you know,” I dryly added to which he ruffled my hair.

“Absolutely not!” Arthur laughed. “Molly would lose her mind.”

“Oh, she’s tougher than that—”

“I would lose my mind,” Molly wholeheartedly agreed.

“ _ Molly _ ,” Sirius whined, betrayed. “How could you? I thought we had a connection.”

But Molly only laughed again. 

Fred and George came up on me as I inched closer to the bookstore exit. 

“So—”

“—what book did you want us to buy you?” 

“I don’t actually have a book I want to buy. I only wanted to win,” I said with a shrug.  _ And be at Diagon Alley when Lucius gives Ginny the diary so I can snag it for myself.  _ “Pick one out you think I’d like.”

The twins exchanged silent expressions, then headed into the store to peruse. I went to the exit where I saw Lucius and Draco leaving as well. 

“Already get your books?” I asked in surprise. Canonically Lucius was supposed to fight Arthur and use the commotion to slip Tom Riddle’s diary in Ginny’s cauldron. 

“Yeah,” Draco said, holding up his bag with a roll of his eyes. “Hopefully Lockhart won’t be as incompetent as Quirrell.”

My lips twitched as I fought back a smile. “Mmmm… one can only hope. Thanks again for being my escort. I hope you both have a lovely day.”

I offered them a curtsy. Draco politely returned it with a small bow, and Lucius dipped his head before the two departed.

_ Since the commotion didn’t happen, did he slip Ginny the diary still, or—? _

I had placed the artifacts I had bought from  _ Borgins and Burkes  _ inside my expandable messenger bag. I rummaged through to see if there was any hidden diary, but sadly there was not. How disheartening that Lucius didn’t try to kill me. What a pity.

Glancing around I spotted Ginny and her cauldron. With the skill of a gentleman thief, I rummaged her cauldron without her knowing and—

_ Lucius you cunning snake.  _

He slipped her the diary without ever making a scene. 

I inwardly applauded him while I pick pocketed the diary for myself then stepped out of the shop to wait for the twins. 

They came back out with a purchased book and handed it to me with smiles so sweet I knew they did something ornery.

It was a book about unicorns.

“You little shits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***
> 
> **Bucket List Completed:**
> 
>   1. Master werewolf biology for future worgen army
>   2. Spend summer preparing for baby Riddle
>   3. Steal diary from Ginny ASAP. 
> 

> 
> **ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**
> 
> See you next week! 
> 
> **Answer:** Gentleman Fox. I’d leave a picture of a fox in place of every stolen item. :) 
> 
> **Question:** If you were friends with Fred and George Weasley, how do you think they would prank you to cheer you up?
> 
> Reviews are  **love**


	16. Year 2 - 3

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Dobby did not appear in front of me prior to the start of school. 

He did appear in front of Harry Potter the night we finished our school shopping. 

I didn’t know what happened since I obviously wasn’t there. Harry was very calm during the ordeal so there was no loud shout of  _ HELP! A STRANGE ELF IS IN MY ROOM _ , instead he carefully listened to what Dobby wanted to say. When it was over, Harry asked Dobby if he could discuss it with his godfather and sister. Dobby insisted Harry and I shouldn’t return to Hogwarts one more time before Kreacher popped out and quite literally kicked him out.

Kreacher did not like the fact that another House Elf showed up. Kreacher woke up Sirius who then woke up Remus and the three—Harry, Sirius, and Remus—talked about it while I enjoyed a nice snooze fest. Because Kreacher liked me, he wanted me to “not worry about it” and how “dark witches need their evil sleep” or something. 

I found out about it in the morning.

“It’s likely some brat trying to pull a prank,” Sirius told us after Harry filled me in. Sirius shoveled piles of food onto Harry’s plate while he talked. Despite Harry’s small stature the boy could eat a fridge-worth of food per meal. “Ignore it.”

“We will,” Harry promised over breakfast. 

The rest of the summer went without issue. I wouldn’t even touch Riddle’s diary until I was at Hogwarts and within running distance of Dumbledore. I was reckless, but not  _ that  _ stupid. 

Experimentation with the werewolf potion was slow but progressing—if only in terms of what not to do. To keep from going completely insane on having to focus on one thing, I decided to add a side project of making a potion that would allow vampires to be in daylight. Anyo was delighted by it, but he had burned his fingers several times testing it out thus far. 

Then at long last it was time to return to Hogwarts. 

And… you know… deal with the diary.

_ Magical luck, please let Tom Riddle not be hot.  _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The return to Hogwarts was a lovely affair. I sat with Draco, Daphne, and Theodore on the way down. We had a lot of catching up to do. There were some stories that simply couldn’t be told through letters. I was ever so pleased that they had all kept up with their running.

“Mother refurbished a training room to look like what they use for professional Quidditch players,” Draco low-key bragged.

“Father re-did a portion of the yard so I could enjoy the view while I ran,” Daphne smugly said. “He bought me enough outfits to have a different one every day of the month.”

“My family visited the dueling tournaments over summer,” Theodore said, not wanting to be outdone. “Dad bought me all the right equipment. Think we can start a dueling club this year?”

“I don’t see why not,” I answered. “If you want to get more serious about dueling there’s another exercise we can do instead of running. Not to say we should stop running, but perhaps switch it to only doing it four times a week, and a different exercise the other three?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Reflex training.”

“How do you mean?” Draco frowned.

“It’ll be grueling but  _ oh  _ so effective. We’re going to play tennis with the Whomping Willow.”

“What?”

“Come again?”

“ _ Huh _ ?”

“Hopefully it doesn’t bash our brains out,” I cheerfully added.

“ _ What? _ ”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Returning to Hogwarts also meant reestablishing my dominance. A couple fifth year students wanted to try to get the best of me after the feast, but my ever so handy Accio had both their shoulders dislocated before they could finish their first spell.

No one tried to attack me for the rest of the night and my title as Queen was kept.

Which meant I had a chance to finally deal with the diary. 

After dinner, I locked myself up in my dorm room. The perks about being a Slytherin meant not having to share a room with other students. Salazar was adamant that those in his House had privacy. I had a lovely bed, desk, and chest provided. Since the room would be mine throughout my entire stay at Hogwarts I was able to decorate as I pleased. 

I had Kreacher send over a couple more bookshelves, a potion station—basically a smaller desk to prep ingredients next to a still and cauldron—a comfortable reading chair, and a super cozy bed for Iris that was kept on top of my chest at the foot of my bed. I kept two pictures on my desk. One of me, Lily, James, and Harry; the other of me, Sirius, Remus, and Harry. I didn’t have much else in the way of decoration except a couple of unicorns that Sirius and Harry got me when I was much younger. 

In the comfort of my room, I heaved out a long sigh as I finally pulled out the diary. Nerves fluttered in my stomach, but it wasn’t enough to outright discourage me. 

What made the whole willingly-interacting-with-the-diary terrifying was how charming Tom Marvolo Riddle was. 

Even though I knew intellectually he was going to manipulate me—would I still be able to pick up on it? Every emotion I “noticed” or “feeling” I got from him could be entirely fabricated. 

Tom was a mind-bogglingly brilliant wizard who had everyone so tightly wrapped around his finger no one questioned him when he accused Hagrid and his spider of killing Myrtle and petrifying the other students.  _ Despite the fact that it made no logical sense.  _ They loved and trusted him that much. 

He, an orphan with no name, power, or money was able to coerce a bunch of bigoted pure-bloods into worshiping the ground he walked on. Even Dumbledore—THE Dumbledore—did not notice the truth behind his facade until years later. 

I knew what he was capable of. I knew that every interaction I ever had with him going forward had to be taken with a grain of salt. It was a tremendous risk. Arguably a very stupid risk.

But it was one I  _ wanted  _ to take regardless. 

I needed to know. I had to—I had to  _ try _ to find out the truth. I promised myself I wouldn’t live with any more regrets and playing it safe would haunt me until I died. 

I’d rather die doing something stupid by my hand than safe inside a bed and constantly wondering. 

I let out a long sigh then opened up the first page of the diary. 

“Please magical luck, kick in for me, and don’t make him too handsome,” I muttered under my breath as I wrote out my first greeting.

_ “Hello,”  _ I said. 

**_“Hello,”_ ** came Tom’s response— _ Ugh, why is his handwriting so much better than mine? The prat. _

_ “My name is Rosaline Potter, but my friends call me Rosie.” _

**_“Hello Rosie. I’m Tom Riddle. How did you come across my diary?”_ **

_ “Nice to meet you Tom. This diary was given to me.” _

A chill ran down my spine as I felt Tom’s magic slowly slither out of the diary and into my own.

“Oh that’s so creepy.” I shuddered. 

_ “I’ve been practicing my occlumency,”  _ I wrote out. “ _ I feel your magic trying to enter.” _

No response.

_ “I’ve got it set up a little special. I’m genuinely very curious… If I let you into my mind, would you be able to possess me?” _

There was no answer for several minutes, so I added: “ _ If you don’t know, or you think it might be a possibility I’d like to try it.” _

**_“Okay.”_ **

Unsurprisingly the Horcrux agreed rather quickly. 

I placed my palm flat on the diary and at once I felt its magic rush into me. I didn’t fight it, but instead guided it to my mind palace. At once a bucket of freezing water was dumped over me as Tom’s chilling magic settled inside me. As more and more of him left the diary and entered my body, the colder I got.

Several minutes later I was shivering, but Tom’s magic had stopped rushing in. 

I could—I could  _ feel  _ him inside my mind palace.

_ Better go say hi. _

I stumbled to my bed to get comfortable as I slipped into a meditative state. His magic was bitterly cold inside me, and each movement I made felt like icicles digging through my flesh straight down into the bone. Not—not painful, oddly, simply a sensation. Every breath I took felt like I was gulping in the air on the coldest day of winter. It was difficult to relax enough in order to reach a good mental state to enter my mind palace. 

It must have taken me a solid ten minutes to accomplish that much. When I opened my eyes I was in my mind palace and—

_ FUCK YOU MAGICAL LUCK. YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME FOR THE LAST TIME.  _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

He was there, sitting underneath a glowing white tree made of crystallized magic, with hints of blues and purples underneath it. The grass was a dark purple and the little hill where the tree stop was quite small. It transitioned into a calm black sea rather quickly.

The sea was a dark mirror that reflected the mesmerizing sky above. I adored space, and it was always a secret wish of mine to one day explore every inch of the mysterious void around us. I crafted these outskirts of my mind to mirror the memories of the galaxies and nebulas I had been fortunate enough to see pictures of. The dark sky was splattered in dusty colors of exploded stars, and worlds too far for us to properly see but shone brilliantly nonetheless.

Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr was a handsome bastard. He had the porcelain skin that would make certain girls burn with envy, the long lashes that were just so unfair, and a face that was eerily angelic. His dark hair was neatly combed with a slight curl to it, and his eyes held a scarlet glow underneath them—a clear sign of the Dark Arts he had practiced.

I took a seat beside him on the hill, and he studied his surrounding environment.

“Hello,” I said, extending a hand out to him.

He took it, his grasp cold and firm. “Hello.”

_ Sweet honey biscuits that voice is money. People would pay millions to have him voice act.  _

A pause.

I  _ would pay a lot of money to record him reading a book with a voice like that.  _

“So… do you have control of my body now?” I asked, curious (and wanting to hear him speak more already. Oof.). “It feels a little weird to have you in my head, but I don’t feel you anywhere else.”

_ At least, I don’t feel your conscious anywhere else. Your magic has spread throughout my body and is slowly curling around my own. I feel like my magic is experiencing its first ever snow day.  _

He smiled the type of smile that probably made his fangirls swoon. Heck, it even made my own heart skip a beat and I was actively trying not to get caught up by his charm.“Who can say?”

“You’re being uncooperative,” I said, letting out a sigh. “But I expected as much. If I let you stay here, would you have a better chance?”

I wasn’t sure if it spoke about his level of arrogance, or the fact that he was completely used to crazy witches, but he never once asked me  _ why  _ I wanted him to possess me.

He ignored my question choosing to instead say in such an alluringly sweet voice, “I do have to admit that your version of occlumency is unique.”

_ Not really. Very common in fanfics, and you know… Sherlock Holmes. _

I didn’t voice that because a compliment was still a compliment. Even if he was trying to manipulate me so I would lower my guard. 

I had to admit from a very brief exchange I was alarmed. 

Almost scared. 

His words were honey. His tone, his manner, the subtle tics of his expression were angelically perfect. When he spoke, I wanted to listen. He was enchanting. It made me nervous. I could plainly see exactly how Ginny, Slughorn, and so many others were swayed by his charisma. 

What truly unsettled me was that despite the fact that his alluring words were swaying me—his magic was static. As a Horcrux I was in a unique position. I could accept Tom Riddle’s soul into my body without the risk of decay. My magic and my body became vessels to him. As chilling as his magic felt crawling into me, it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

I was sensitive to magic due to how I had trained myself to learn it. Magic was as tangible to me was water. Tom Riddle’s magic slipped in and intertwined like an ivy around mine. 

I could feel it. I could feel  _ him _ .

His words were sweet, but his magic was cold and flat and spoke nothing of sweetness. 

Could I trust his magic to tell me the truth?

Or was Tom Riddle such a mastermind as a teenager that he could perfectly control the state of his magic to reflect whatever he wanted? Did he  _ want  _ me to think I could feel his magic the way I thought I could?

My emotions wouldn’t be easily hidden from him. While I had control of my mind palace, emotions were difficult to keep locked away. Even on the very outskirts, he would still feel their echoes. The closer he got, the clearer it would become. 

He would sense how I felt—I couldn’t stop that since I accepted him into me. 

But it was doubtful he would pick up that I could sense him.

_ Or did he? _

What a conundrum. 

It would make more sense that if he could control his magic he would try to make it come across as warm and sincere. He had no way of knowing I could sense his magic, either. 

At the end of the day, though, I had to accept something. If I constantly distrusted him our relationship wouldn’t be any different from that of him and Dumbledore’s. 

I smiled as kindly as I could to him.

_ I’ll put my trust in your magic,  _ I thought privately to myself. 

After all my focus—my purpose—for the endeavor was simple.

_ Exactly how evil was Tom Riddle? _

I believed in nurture over nature. I believed that anybody, given the circumstances of their childhood, could become someone truly evil or truly great. Nature played a role, but parenting was much stronger. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle was a child born in poverty, abandoned, and raised in an orphanage that was far from kind. Orphans in his time period  _ had  _ to steal food to survive because more often than not the orphanage wouldn’t have enough money to provide meals for everyone. Coupling with inevitable bursts of magic during his toddler stage, he was likely labeled as something… very bad.

And a child raised to believe they were  _ very bad  _ would inevitably become  _ very bad _ .

The iteration of Tom Riddle in front of me was still a boy. Albeit a fresh murderer since this Horcrux was made by him killing someone, but I wasn’t really in a position to judge  _ that  _ now was I?

But—

Well.

Did one act have to define a child for the rest of his life?

I saw one path he went down—a path dictated by a single-minded drive for power that screamed textbook child abuse. If you looked up a picture of “children turned sociopaths from childhood abuse and consequently do a b c” you’d see Tom Riddle.

It wasn’t a justification for his actions, but like with Fenrir, I could understand where he was coming from. 

A life without power, stability, or love, made for one hell of a bitter streak. 

_ The world hurt us, why can’t we hurt it? _

I knew he was  _ capable  _ of compassion—he cared for Nagini, at the very least. His conception under a love potion wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t prevent him from feeling love himself. Although that was a very common fandom myth after people misread J.K. Rowling’s quote about how the love potion was only symbolic. 

My interactions with Fenrir certainly confirmed that if given the chance, most “villains” would rather not be villains at all.

Tom Riddle was a man obsessed with power (to make sure he never got hurt), fame (to make sure people loved him), and heritage (to make sure he had a place in the world).

So, truly, I was most curious…

_ What would happen if Tom Riddle was given another path? _

It was a thought that had nagged at me since I had begun seriously interacting with Fenrir. The werewolf was painted as a cruel killer but I couldn’t view him as such since meeting him. What he had done in the past was awful—I dared not to deny it—but  _ he  _ didn’t want to. He felt as if he had no other options, that no one would care. He had to scream for someone to listen, and even then his screams continued to be ignored and dismissed.

He was made a villain. 

Was Tom the same?

I had seen one version of him, but I was not so hateful as to say the one before me was the same as his future self. The one that stood in front of me had one death to his name. He was still a teenager, albeit with fifty years of isolation tacked on, and he had one major misdeed to his name.

Compared to Fenrir’s numerous crimes… 

It didn’t sit well with me to give Fenrir a chance and ignore Tom. I wanted to know the truth. Even if I proved that he was evil to his core, at least I could say I gave it an honest try. 

Of course if he showed any interest in wanting to kill my brother my thirst for the truth would dry up faster than a desert in summer. 

_ No regrets. If I want to learn about something I’m not going to sit around and worry about the what if’s. I’m going to do it.  _

“I have a lot of neat things here,” I said. “Would you like to stay here, or go back into your book?”

He tilted his head, the gesture oddly similar to that of an intelligent, and perplexed snake. Was that intentional or a genuine tic? “That’s a terribly kind offer. I would be ever so grateful if you would allow me to stay here. It’s quite beautiful. You must be a remarkable witch.”

“Thank you,” I said, because I had a feeling he genuinely thought it was beautiful. Remarkable witch maybe not so much, but a pretty scene was still a pretty scene. “I have an inner forest next, if you can get to that level.”

“Is there a boat?” he asked, gesturing out towards the black sea that surrounded us.

“You’re a brilliant young wizard,” I reminded him. “You’ll find a boat.”

His lips twitched up into a thin smile as his magic quivered in what I could only describe as dispassionate bemusement.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

_ “Can you hear my thoughts if I project them into my palace?”  _ I asked after I had returned to the physical realm. It was chilly—very chilly—but as I began to circulate my magic alongside his I warmed up. Getting possessed was a bit like having a bunch of ice cubes inside your chest. 

I didn’t foresee any decay in my future. I was his Horcrux, technically. If I was going to rot away I would have done so within the first year of being a Horcrux. 

**_“Yes,”_ ** he responded back. “ **_Can you hear me?”_ **

_ “I can! This is kind of cool. Can you see the outside world through my eyes?” _

**_“Yes, the sea reflects it.”_ **

_ “That’s really neat. I’ve never been possessed before, so this whole experience is super cool.” _

**_“Super cool?”_ **

_ “Um… super neato?” _

**_“Cool is neato?”_ **

_ “Yes?” _

Now that I thought about it, Tom actually grew up in a completely different decade than I did.

_ “Aha… when you get far enough into my mind palace I  _ really  _ wanna show you Carameldansen.” _

**_“Cara what?”_ **

_ “Hue hue hue hue hue.” _

**_“What?”_ **

With a smile on my face I got up from my desk and stretched. The diary was carefully hidden in my locked suitcase and I got ready for bed. 

_ “Good night, Tom,”  _ I told him warmly. 

**_“Good night, Rosie,”_ ** he said with a gentle tone that contradicted his frigid magic. 

_ At least he’s not trying to murder me right away. He’s already surpassed the bar I had set.  _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

First thing in the morning for Slytherins was transfiguration where Professor McGonagall made us practice turning beetles into buttons. Transfiguration wasn’t my specialty, but I got the job done. Sirius mentioned that if Harry and I did well in our Transfiguration classes that year he’d start teaching us how to become animagus. 

After transfiguration was double Herbology with Ravenclaw where we transplanted several mandrakes. While on the topic of mandrakes I had asked Professor Sprouts, “Is it possible to enhance their cry? Make it heard from further away?”

Professor Sprouts gave me an odd look. “It has never been done before, but there are a few who have tried. The latest attempt was using a Muggle piece but Muggle technology goes haywire when an adult mandrake starts crying.”

_ “Damn it. Guess I can’t tie a bunch of megaphones to them and toss ‘em into Gringotts.” _

Oops. Hadn’t meant to project that thought out. 

**_“What?”_ **

I sent him a picture of a megaphone, projecting the image across my black sea for him to see.

**_“Oh_ ** **.”**

It was nice he didn’t ask why I wanted to use them to invade Gringotts. Gringotts was the end game for my thieving career. 

After Herbology was doubles in DADA with Gryffindor. I was thankful I wouldn’t have to deal with Lockhart on my own, and judging by how apprehensive Harry was to enter the classroom I’m sure he felt the same. Harry went out of his way to sit in the back of the classroom with Neville and he piled all seven of Lockhart’s books in front of him as if to avoid looking at the real thing.

I took a seat at the front because I was always first. Draco sat next to me with Theodore and Hermione behind us. Daphne and Tracey took up the other desk in the front row, and the rest of my babeh snakes scattered throughout the classroom.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Daphne’s copy of  _ Travels with Trolls _ , and held it up to show his own winking portrait on the front.

“Me,” he said, pointing at it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of  _ Witch Weekly’s _ Most-Charming-Smile Award—but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!” 

He waited for the class to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books: well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about—just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in—”

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, “You have thirty minutes—start—now!”

  1. _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?_
  2. _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?_
  3. _What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?_



On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to: 

  1. _When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_



**_“What happened to Hogwarts? Who is this… man?”_ ** The chill from Tom’s magic sharpened, conveying a sense of disbelief and anger. I had to admit it was pretty impressive he kept a gentle tone despite the level of disgust I felt from his magic. 

_ “Oh, you sweet summer child…” _

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class. “Tut, tut—hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in  _ Year with the Yeti _ . And a few of you need to read  _ Wanderings with Werewolves _ more carefully—I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples—though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky!” 

He gave them another roguish wink. 

“But Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions—good girl! In fact—” He flipped her paper over. “—full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?” 

Hermione raised a trembling hand as her cheeks reddened.

“Excellent!” beamed Lockhart. “Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so to business.” 

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it. “Now be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

It was pitiful how some students were falling for his hype and started to lean forward. 

“I must ask you not to scream,” said Lockhart in a low voice. “It might provoke them.” As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover. “Yes,” he said dramatically. “Freshly caught Cornish pixies.”

“Someone kill me now,” Draco blithely muttered.

I placed my head on my desk and sighed. “Wake me when it’s over.”

“Right, then,” Lockhart said loudly. “Let’s see what you make of them!” 

And he opened the cage. 

It was madness. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, upended the wastebasket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

“Come on now, round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies,” Lockhart shouted.

But no one was making a move to do so. 

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, “ _ Peskipiksi Pesternomi! _ ” 

It had no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

Taking pity on the terrified boy I used Wingardium Leviosa to pull him out of the way.

“Okay. Let’s round them up before they give me a headache,” I said while rubbing at my forehead. 

**_“Why is_ ** **he** **_the professor of the Dark Arts?”_ **

_ “Because a certain Dark Lord threw a tantrum and cursed the position so no one could stay in it for more than a year.”  _

**_“Who—?”_ **

_ “Who indeed?” _

Tom fell silent, his magic twitching in agitation. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

  1. Spend summer preparing for baby Riddle
  2. Test if occlumency offers resistance to Voldewhore possession



31a. Also genuinely curious what the hell that feels like???  **Note: Like I’m being tossed out in the middle of winter with a wet blanket. Would not recommend unless the possessor is super hot and makes for good convo.**

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note about Tom being born under a love potion makes him “unable to love”.** That is a  **fandom myth** . Not canonical at all. A quick google search will provide the correct quote that the love potion was merely “a symbolic way of showing that he came from a loveless union…” 
> 
> I felt the need to quickly add this before I had people trying to say what Rosie was trying to do was pointless because of a fandom myth. 
> 
> **Answer:** Probably a jump scare. I laugh those off easily. 
> 
> **Question:** If you could be possessed (without repercussions for you) by an already dead witch/wizard or one that has a horcrux at the start of the series… who would it be? 
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	17. Year 2 - 4

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

My day markedly improved when Draco pulled me aside after lunch to tell me, “Father’s got the new brooms.”

“Excellent, Draco. Have you already told Professor Snape we’ll be donating last year’s brooms to the school?”

“Yes,” Draco said.

Giving Slytherin the Nimbus Two Thousands last year had been an easy way to curry favor, but seeing the Slytherin Quidditch team in anything other than those sleek black brooms Draco originally got them was plain wrong. After some debilitation, I casually slipped to Draco that perhaps Slytherin should get a new set of brooms this year and donate the old ones last year.

It would look good for Slytherin House to replace the school brooms, after all. 

Draco jumped at the chance to show off his wealth and offered to buy Slytherin’s new set of brooms himself. I agreed, and the plan was set forward.

“Did he say anything about it?” I asked.

Draco shook his head. “Not really.”

“Okay. Good luck in your tryouts tonight.”

“I won’t need luck,” he said with a smirk.

It was such an innocent arrogance. I felt a surge of affection, candle-light warmth igniting in my chest. 

With my emotions came the echo of alarm and confusion from Tom. Our magic was carefully woven as he rested inside my mind. We could both catch echoes of how the other one felt—although I did not think Tom was aware that I could translate his magic, and thus he did not know that I knew what he  _ truly  _ felt. I had not disclosed to him I was a magic sensor, and such a thing was rarer than being a Parselmouth apparently. 

My wave of friendly endearment for Draco had clearly caught Tom off guard, and his magic recoiled in an almost defensive manner. I could perfectly imagine that his brow would be furrowed in confusion in private. If I were to slip into my mind he would only ever have that angelic poker face smile. 

I fondly patted the top of his head. “Your confidence is cute.”

His cheeks turned red and he spluttered. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

At the end of the day the Slytherins were instructed to meet up in the common room. I had wanted to wait until after our first day back before holding our annual meeting. It was our  _ first _ annual meeting, technically, but I would make it a tradition.

“I’m glad to see everyone has returned, and I wanted to welcome our first year students,” I addressed the Slytherin House in our common room. I stood atop our coffee table in order to do so. Being short had its disadvantages. “Since Insult Night was so popular we will be doing it again this year.”

The Slytherins snapped in approval—except the first year students who looked bewildered. 

“We have done wonders to improve our public appearance, but we need to step it up a notch,” I went on. “Once a week, every week, we must each perform one good deed. A compliment to someone outside our House, or holding a door open, or anything along those lines will do. Failure to comply will result in punishment excluding extenuating circumstances.”

Those who had already faced my wrath winced. 

One of the first year students, Harper if I remembered correctly, was confused. “Why?”

Pansy Parkinson sneered at the boy. “Because Slytherins are better than narrow minded bullies. Our House has fallen into disgrace. We must correct it.”

“Well said, Pansy,” I praised her and she blushed happily. 

“How will you know we did a good deed?” asked Miles Bletchley. 

“I expect you to report your good deed to me by the end of the week. There are dozens of snakes throughout Hogwarts under my control,” I said and the Slytherins nodded at that—Tom’s magic showed confusion, but he did not inquire just yet. “They will be watching over, so do not try to insult my intelligence by lying.”

Adrian Puccey raised his hand, so I called on him. He asked, “Is Mudblood still forbidden?”

“What a stupid question, of course it is,” Daphne scolded him on my behalf.

“We’re better than relying on one word,” I scathingly added. “Use what little wit you have and dedicate yourself to understanding the basics. Or should I engrave it into your skull for you?” 

He paled and rapidly shook his head no.

**“Bit of a bearcat, aren’t you?”**

_ What does that mean?  _ I thought privately then I remembered.  _ Oh yeah. 1920s.  _

“ _ Thank you. _ ”

**“You’re welcome?’**

_ Aw, shit, was that  _ not  _ a compliment?  _

Fighting back my embarrassment, I steeled my voice as I asked, “Good. Any other questions?”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Come the weekend it was time for the Quidditch’s team’s practice. I vaguely remembered something had happened in the canonical story, but my memory was spotty. There were some things I could remember clearly like the back of my hand, and other things that were foggy. 

Early Saturday morning I got dressed. I was sure to put on some thick Slytherin green wool earmuffs and gloves. I hadn’t planned on running during Quidditch practice—we hadn’t met up for our running, yet, wanting everyone to get a feel for their classes and workload first—so sitting out there would be quite chilly. 

**_“I never understood the appeal of Quidditch,”_ ** Tom commented as I dug out a scarf.

_ “You and me both. But it’s good to show support.” _

**_“Why?”_ **

_ “Because it’s important to Draco, and Draco’s my friend. It’s his first training session, and it would be supportive to attend.” _

Tom didn’t respond, but I could sense his apprehension and confusion. He had already seen the dynamics of the Slytherin House and previously commented I reminded him of himself. 

**_“He already obeys you.”_ **

_ “I am the leader of the Slytherins, but I am also his friend.” _

**_“That does not make any sense.”_ **

_ “It’s not an oxymoron, Tom.”  _

His magic lashed out in irritation, stewing over my words even as he told me in a honey coated tone, “ **_Of course. You’re right Rosie. I’ve spent so long in that lonely diary my mind must be in a trundle. I hope you’ll be patient with me.”_ **

_ “Certainly, Tom.”  _

Ugh. Tom needed a job as one of those people who made audio books. His voice was like goddamn butter when he wanted something. This was going to be fun. 

Draco was bright-eyed as he greeted me in the common room. The other Quidditch members offered me polite greetings. A few of them yawned which made me yawn. For a couple of minutes we had a yawn cycle going between all of us.

“Okay, enough,” Flint said, pulling out a note. “I got the note from Professor Snape. Let’s head to the field.”

“Note?” I inquired, adjusting my black messenger bag. 

“Yeah. That ars—er—that Gryffindor captain Wood booked the field already. Did it on the first day,” Flint explained. 

“Hm.” Iris squirmed from inside my pocket until she was underneath my cloak. She slithered up so that way she could be under my cloak while sticking her head out of my scarf to nuzzle at my neck. 

“Mommy I’m sleepy.”

“Go back to sleep,” I hissed at her. The Slytherins were pretty used to me talking to her so none of them flinched. 

**_“You’re a Parselmouth?“_ **

_ “Yes.” _

**_“You are—you are a descendant of—?”_ **

_ “No. I was not born a Parselmouth. The magic was imprinted upon me.” _

**_“How?”_ **

_ “It’s difficult to explain. If you can get far enough in you could probably find the memory.”  _

_ Which will never happen. _

His chilling magic curled in thought. In private—so Tom could not hear—I had to wonder what it was like with Ginny. She only ever described it as cold and dark, but I was a Horcrux. My magic and body had become suited to accept Tom’s soul next to mine, on top of which I had become sensitive to magic due to how I learned to use it. 

He was cold to me, and I had to actively work to keep my body warm by making my magic keep pace with his. A battle between a glacier and a bonfire.

In spite of the temperature difference, feeling him didn’t bother me. He wasn’t uncomfortable, rather at times I even found his magic refreshing. I could only conclude that was a specific side effect to being a Horcrux. 

I wished I could find more information on it and it’s ritual. The concept of it reminded me an awful lot like the archetypal phylactery liches used. 

How did magic define a soul? What equation was used for it? Math was used in spellcrafting. The Wizarding World was bounds ahead of the Muggle Community in what I assumed to be quantum physics. That was one of the more ambiguous maths and its vagueness and undefined nature for Muggles screamed magic to me. I was still early in my self studies for it, so I couldn’t be certain.

_ But really, what is used to define a soul? I wish I could get my hands on whatever books Tom read. The scientific concept of it is terribly fascinating.  _

Iris snoozed softly under my clothes while I and the other babeh snakes headed off to the field. Draco seemed to be in especially high spirits as he kept admiring the new sleek black brooms his father got for the team. 

Upon reaching the field the Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood, shot toward them with Harry, Fred, and George not far behind. 

“Flint!” Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. “This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!” 

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of malicious glee as he replied, “Plenty of room for all of us, Wood.”

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, each of the boys standing pretty tall. I, the shortest by a long shot, stuck out like a sore thumb. In spite of my sex and stature, though, none of the Slytherin boys on the Quidditch team crowded me or made any move to “protect me” from the Gryffindor team.

If anything, the chasers actually hid  _ behind  _ me. 

“But I booked the field!” said Wood, positively spitting with rage. “I booked it!” 

“Ah,” said Flint. “But I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape.  _ ‘I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker _ .’” 

“You’ve got a new Seeker?” said Wood, distracted. “Where?”

“Me,” Draco said as he stepped up by my side. 

“Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?” said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike. 

“Funny you should mention Draco’s father,” said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. “Let me show you the generous gift he’s made to the Slytherin team.”

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors’ noses in the early morning sun. 

“Very latest model. Only came out last month,” said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. “I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount.”

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Draco Malfoy was smirking so broadly his gray eyes were reduced to slits. 

“Oh, look,” mocked Flint. “A field invasion.”

Hermione, Neville, and Ron had crossed the field to see what was going on. 

“What’s happening?” Ron asked Harry. “Why aren’t you playing? And what’s  _ he  _ doing here?” 

He was glaring at Draco, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes. 

“I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,” said Draco, smugly. “Everyone’s just been admiring the brooms my father’s bought our team.” 

Ron gaped at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

“Good, aren’t they?” purred Draco smoothly. “Perhaps the Gryffindor team will get to use the old brooms we generously donated to the school. You Weasley’s have a lot of experience with hand-me-downs, don’t you?”

Had he said it in the Slytherin Common room I would have snapped in approval. 

_ “Oh, that’s a lovely burn.”  _

**_“Burn?_ ** _ ” _

_ “Insult _ — _ hey, what’s a bearcat?” _

He hesitated.  **_“Strong woman._ ** _ ” _

_ “Oh. Then yeah I’m totally a bearcat.” _

As it stood Fred, George, and Ron turned redder than strawberries at his remark. 

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” said Hermione sharply in defense of her House and friends. “They got in on pure talent.”

But Draco knew better than to be bothered by an insult. Canonically he might have risen to the bait, but a year under my tutelage resulted in better management. He only had a wide grin for her as he said, “Talent picked out from a motley crew isn’t something to be proud of, is it? Gryffindor doesn’t even have enough  _ talent  _ for reserves.”

_ “Beautiful comeback. I’m so proud of my babeh snake. You should have seen him before, Tom. He would have only called her a Mudblood and whipped out his wand.” _

**_“How dreadfully dull.”_ **

_ “Right?”  _

I couldn’t hold back my proud beaming smile at him. Draco caught it and puffed up his chest in pride. Flint placed a hand on his shoulder as he leered at Wood. “If you’ve nothing else to say, Wood, get your kittens and clear off.”

Flint didn’t even make a remark about their blood purity or “traitor” status! I’M SO PROUD OF MY BABEH SNAKES. 

The Gryffindor team turned different shades. 

Harry said, who had learned to never,  _ ever  _ react after years of dealing with bullshit from Sirius and me, asked, “How long will you need the field?”

“‘Til lunch at least,” Flint answered on my behalf—not like I would have had an answer anyway.

“That’s fine. We can come back afterward,” Harry diplomatically said. “None of us even had a chance for breakfast yet.”

“But Harry—” Ron started to say, but Harry interrupted him with a held up hand and kind smile. 

“It’s fine. Draco hasn’t had a chance to be on a proper team,” Harry said, nodding to Draco who politely nodded back. “Last year Rosie got the Slytherin team to clear off when I needed practice for my first match. It’s only fair to return the favor.”

Harry then offered a hand out to Draco. “Congratulations on making the cut, Draco.”

“Thanks,” Draco said, accepting the handshake. 

“And good job on the insult. I know Rosie’s beside herself with pride right now.”

“You know me so well,” I sighed happily. 

“After practice we should all meet up to discuss our exercises,” Harry suggested and at Wood’s outraged expression he quickly added, “Not  _ Quidditch  _ exercises, Wood.”

Draco’s face screwed up like he bit into a rotten lemon. “You mean the tennis with the Whomping Willow?”

**_“What?”_ **

Harry blinked. “What?”

“What?” echoed everyone else.

“Later,” I said with a sweet smile. 

Harry tiredly looked over at me. “Rosie, no.”

“Rosie, yes.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Sunday morning I decided to try out the whole playing tennis with the Whomping Willow thing. The rest of the group would be running while I tested it out. 

“Good morning, Madame Whomping Willow,” I greeted her with a bow. Her branches waved ominously in the wind. “I am here to challenge you.”

Her branches stilled completely, stiffening in surprise anger.

“With this!” I exclaimed with a flourish as I held up a bright neon pink tennis ball and a matching racket. I had to go with bright colors so it would be easier to spot them when they inevitably started flying to my face. I had no clue how the Willow would throw the racket at me, but I had to acknowledge the possibility. “Prepare yourself, Madame!”

Whomping Willow moved her branches in a gesture that could only be seen as:  _ Bring it on, bitch.  _

I tossed the ball into the air before hitting it with my racket. What followed over the next five minutes was a game of sheer intensity. There was nothing I could do but try and keep up with her rapid-fire knock backs as she effortlessly threw the ball back at me with such ferocity. 

I was already working up quite a sweat. I didn’t think I’d last the full thirty minutes like I planned, but my test was abruptly cut short when she timed her throw so perfectly it nailed me in the face and broke my nose.

“You win this time!” I shouted as I clutched at my profusely bleeding face. “I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!”

If trees could laugh, she would be laughing at me. Tom didn’t laugh outright at my pain, but I could feel the quivering of his magic which told me he very much wanted to. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

October arrived in what felt like a blink of an eye. Classes were as lovely as last year—although I couldn’t decide if I preferred the stench of garlic or the nauseating spiel of Lockhart’s “lessons.” I had resumed my studies with Fred and George about wards: we could only meet once a week, so I did end up having to do a lot more self-studying than what I would have liked. Ron Weasley had joined our morning runs, unfortunately he wasn’t as dedicated as everyone else. He was also very reluctant to associate with the Slytherins who were equally apprehensive to talk to him. 

Anyo’s sister’s (Nefeli) wife was quite pleased to join us on our potion experimentation. She sent me a letter to introduce herself as Odette and she had always had an interest in witchcraft and potion making. She had plenty of wizard friends that were all too happy to provide her (free of charge) with the necessary enchanted runes so they could continue the experiments without me. 

I found Odette and Anyo to be delightful to work with. Neither held my age against me, and both were content to dutifully try out the experiments I wrote down. They had little input to add in, but simply having hands constantly trying out new recipes for me was a huge help. I did pay them a decent sum, too. 

Odette did promise me she would do further research into dire wolves. She knew canines, but what was shown under the microscope was definitely different than what she was used to working with. She’d also do some inquiries on her end to hunt down the fossils of the species for testing. 

Tom was… very inquisitive about what I was trying to make. He offered his services, but judging by the chilly intensity I got from his magic I thought it would be best to decline for now. If I hit a wall, I’d make the deal with the psychopath—er or was he a sociopath?—but until then nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not giving the potential Dark Lord a chance to steal my worgen army idea. 

By the time October came in—Odette had been working with us since September—we actually started to see results.

Namely, a painless transition. 

The werewolf transformation was still long, but with the current state of our potion Fenrir reported that there was no pain. It still had to be taken the day prior and day of the full moon, so nothing long-lasting. It was a start. If I could get the potions to work out, it would be easier to translate it into something permanent like a ritual. Or at least that’s what the few books on rituals told me. Something already a spell or potion would be easier to turn into a ritual. Creating a ritual from scratch was difficult and dangerous. 

On a Friday night in October I snuck out of Slytherin to go on an adventure. 

_ “Tom, you’re a Parselmouth, aren’t you? That’s how you were able to understand me when I talk to Iris. Would you please tell me, have you heard about the Chamber of Secrets?”  _

Tom did not respond for several seconds. “ **_Yes.”_ **

_ “You know last year I spent hours searching Hogwarts up and down for all of its little secrets. In the Third Corridor _ —” I brought up bits of the memories to directly show him—“ _ I found a quest to conquer. At the end was the Philosopher’s Stone.”  _

**_“The Philosopher's Stone?”_ ** Tom repeated back in surprise. “ **_Why?”_ **

_ “A Dark Lord wanted to steal it. Dumbledore hid it at Hogwarts. I found it before the Dark Lord.”  _

**_“Did you keep it?”_ **

_ “Heavens no. I have no use for it.” _

**_“You would deny immortality and riches?”_ ** Tom was incredulous.

_ “The riches it would provide me would inflate the market and ultimately be useless. The immortality side of it is lame. It only keeps you from dying, it doesn’t stop you from aging. Eventually the quality of life simply isn’t good enough. I’d rather invent my own way.” _

**_“Invent a different way to be immortal?’_ **

_ “Sure. Tom, do you know what  _ causes  _ people to age?”  _

Tom’s magic quivered in thought. He did not respond as I slowly made my way through the hallways. “ **_No.”_ **

_ “Would you like me to explain it to you?” _

**_“Do you know, then?”_ **

_ “Yes.”  _

**_“Please explain.”_ **

I adjusted my grip on the invisibility cloak, sat down in the hallway, then shut my eyes. After a few minutes of concentration I was back on the island with Tom and in my hand was an amalgamation of a biology book. I took a seat on the island beside Tom and he scooted closer to me in order to examine the book. I opened the book to pull up a memory of a human cadaver. 

“There are many factors that result in aging, but it essentially boils down to destruction of the cells. The most notable damages to that cell are: oxidative stress, glycation, telomere shortening, side reactions, mutations, aggregation of proteins...”

“Gly-what?” Tom blinked.

“Oh. Um… let’s go back a bit more.”

I ended up not going on an adventure that night but spent Friday night and all day Saturday giving Tom an intense crash course on human biology. It was scary how quick he picked it up. Fella could probably breeze through med-school.

Bastard. 

Sunday, though!

Sunday I got my adventure. I had my cloak ready, my expandable bag, and Iris at my side. 

**_“What are you intending to do?”_ **

_ “Open the Chamber of Secrets and see if the basilisk inside is willing to behave.” _

**_“You have—you have found it?”_ **

_ “I didn’t discover it. I was told where it was,”  _ I honestly answered him.

**_“By who?”_ **

I almost said  _ you _ , but refrained. I didn’t want to lie to Tom, but I was reluctant to give him the entire truth right away. I settled on not answering his question, smiling to myself as I entered the girl’s bathroom.

Tom didn’t seem perturbed by my silence. His magic was intrigued but thankfully didn’t feel annoyed. He was calmer than I anticipated him being. I supposed that made sense. He had to have been patient to manipulate an emotional twelve-year-old girl. And… he must have learned to maintain his composure when he first started to attend Hogwarts.

He would have been seen as a Muggle-born sorted into Slytherin. No money, no power, no name…

I had reached the sink with the snake carves. I hissed out, “ _ Open _ .”

Nothing happened.

_ “Um…” _

Tom’s magic quivered in a way very similar to snickering. 

I tried: “Open please?” 

Tom’s tone sung of smugness. It made me wish he was one of my babeh snakes so I could pinch his cheeks or ruffle his hair really hard. “ **_Who told you to open this?”_ **

_ “W-Well it was through second-hand knowledge.” _

**_“You should have done your research better.”_ **

_ “Do  _ you  _ know how to open it?” _

**_“Maybe.”_ **

_ “Wanna spare any hints?” _

**_“No.”_ **

I could feel his smug smile from that one maliciously gleeful  _ no _ .

_ “I’ll figure it out on my own then,”  _ I retorted.

**_“You’ll have better luck defeating the Whomping Willow on your first try.”_ **

_ “But I already lost—?” _

**_“Exactly.”_ **

_ “You’re a meanie butt.” _

Tom let out a barely contained snort. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

  1. Play tennis with the whomping willow
  2. Make Slytherins do good deeds at least once a week, or face punishment. Note: Training for how to pretend to be nice on a convincing level, and how to properly manipulate. Fucking embarrassing how over the top evil they are.



**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sURPRISE!
> 
> **Answer:** mERLIN!!
> 
> **Question:** Which main quest at Hogwarts would you wanna face? Dementors, Philosopher Stone, Chamber of Secrets, Tournament, etc…? 
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	18. Year 2 - 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Cloudy  
> Translator (English to Latin): Sam

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I spent a few more hours on Sunday night guessing different phrases. Then again on Monday night. Then Tuesday. Then Wednesday. It went on and on until Halloween finally arrived and I still couldn’t get the damn sink to open up.

I didn’t understand. If I remembered correctly Ron was able to open the sink by repeating  _ Open  _ in Parseltongue during the Hogwarts battle. He didn’t know Parsletongue so he couldn’t have stood there guessing words. What changed? What happened? Did I remember it incorrectly, or was there something else at play? 

_ “‘Bout ready to Reducto that sink,”  _ I sourly thought.

**_“How Gryffindor of you.”_ **

_ “Never mind then. I’ll figure it out!” _

**_“Your tenacity is amusing. I’ll throw you a bone if you bark nicely enough.”_ **

_ “Oh magnificent Tom, the wonderful wizard whom I so adore, would you please kindly throw me a bone? Woof-woof.”  _

His magic recoiled in surprise, and I shared with him an echo of how much I enjoyed listening to him comment on my day-to-day life. I hadn’t hidden my affection for him prior, but I hadn’t gone out of my way to share it either. Threat level aside he has some great commentary that made daily life more amusing. 

Not that I felt particularly threatened by the boy anymore. Considering how well my mind palace was working I felt confident I could forcefully expel him if he ever tried to take over. 

I did have a few more failsafes in place of course. I wrote to Kreacher every week and if that ever stopped or if my hidden code in the letters stopped appearing Kreacher knew to go straight to Dumbledore. Iris was warned beforehand to alert Kreacher if I acted out of character, and if I ever made a move to hurt my brother she’d restrain me. 

I had more, those were only a couple. 

It made it easier to relax. Not to the point of dropping suspicion, but enough to give him as sincere a chance as possible. 

I was going to be a doctor in my previous life. I was trained to look at each patient with the least amount of prejudice as possible. Admittedly, there were certain types of people I would have a strong bias against—I was only human, after all—but that didn’t mean my  _ actions  _ had to convey that bias. Initials thoughts did not have to be acted upon, but rather, I could choose how I behaved and treated others no matter how I feel about them. 

Tom looking so young and different than the monster I had seen on that horrible night helped differentiate him from Voldemort. Compartmentalizing emotions came as second nature to me, so my initial bias was easy to shove down. I wanted to look at him as I would any other teenaged boy who would come into my office with a troubled past. 

From that mindset, it was actually pretty easy to come to like Tom. He was quick-witted, silver-tongued, and his befuddlement for my generation was rather endearing. 

I wondered if my ability to empathize with supposed villains would have made me a good or bad doctor. 

Oh well. I’d never know. 

**_“That—That is acceptable. Do you know when Hogwarts was founded?”_ **

_ “990 a.d.”  _

**_“What language was spoken around then?”_ **

_ “L-Latin?” _

**_“You’re off a couple of centuries. British Latin died out in 700 a.d.”_ **

_ “Wait is there a difference between Latin and British Latin?” _

**_“Yes. In the first century of a.d. Latin became established in the south of England. Over time, it developed into a distinct form of Latin. It can be traced in loanwords into British Celtic. This was displaced by Old English around 500 a.d. through the immigration and land-taking of Anglo-Saxons.”_ **

_ “S-So then it’s Anglo-Saxon?” _

**_“You’re thinking of West Saxon, or Old English.”_ **

_ “Then that means… the password is in Old English?” _

**_“There are words that do not have modern English equivalents, and therefore must be spoken as Old English.”_ **

_ “But Parseltongue is a whole other language. How can I need a separate language inside a separate language?” _

**_“Parseltongue is a magical language, not a common tongue one,”_ ** Tom corrected me. “ **_You speak English and English is what the snakes will hear.”_ **

_ “Can a snake speak a different language?” _

**_“Some, yes. It depends on the magical environment they are born in. A hydra born in Germany, for example, will speak German.”_ **

_ Whoa,  _ I thought. That was pretty cool. But then I noticed he didn’t answer my question. “ _ Okay… so the password is in Old English?” _

**_“No.”_ **

_ “Wha—Tom!” _

Tom seemed to be smirking at me, his magic was delightfully jumpy when smug. “ **_I hoped you wouldn’t have caught that I didn’t answer your question and spent a month trying Old English.”_ **

_ “You’re lucky I like you so much mister or I might be cross with you. What language  _ is  _ it in?” _

**_“Latin.”_ **

_ “Why?” _

**_“Salazar Slytherin believed all of his descendants should learn Latin because it is considered the ideal language for spellcrafting.”_ **

I stopped what I was doing and immediately went into my mind palace. Tom Riddle was still on the island. He was laid out and relaxed as he admired the view in the sky above. He sat up when I appeared, his lips curled into a perfectly practiced coy smile as his eyes danced with mirth. His expression conveyed teasing, and for once it matched his magic. Okay, well, his magic might have had a bit of a meaner ( _ cough _ sadistic  _ cough _ ) tint to his teasing, but it was progress! 

Progress, I say! 

“There’s only one thing to do for ornery little butt heads like you,” I said as I wagged my finger.

“Oh?”

“Yep.” I proceeded to sit beside him and pull him into a tight hug. “Every time you’re a jerk, you owe me a hug.”

He had stiffened immediately upon contact before he quickly pushed me off him. I didn’t resist, pulling away and giving him a big cheeky grin. He kept his angelic poker face, but his magic was darkened and furious. It coiled beside mine, quivering from surprise to anger. 

I wasn’t going to enforce physical contact willy-nilly, but I had to do  _ something  _ otherwise he’d keep bullying me. Eventually, our relationship would switch to a fight for dominance where Tom wouldn’t feel relaxed until he held the power. It wouldn’t be healthy, and it would certainly be impossible to maintain a genuine friendship like I had with Fenrir.

He had no experience to handle a healthy relationship. He was not disciplined appropriately, nor did he receive praise for the good he did.

Criticizing him too early on would only result in him shutting me out either due to his own trauma or narcissism. Hurting him was a big no for the same reason. I wasn’t in any immediate danger like I was with the snake babehs, so I felt no rush or urgency to establish our relationship.

I had to gently reprimand him for being a brat while showing him affection as to not trigger him. 

The best solution I could come up with was expressions of love through physical contact. Nothing I wouldn’t do for my dear Harry or any other fragile child under my care. 

Tom was in that weird spot where he was both a child and technically older than me. Living longer didn’t equate to emotional maturity, after all. Intellectually he surpassed me, but emotionally he was little better than a traumatized toddler. Certainly had the ego of one. 

As the more emotionally mature one between us, I was obligated to treat him with care. I knew, from personal experience and as a medical student, how impactful such care could be. 

Assuming he wasn’t already an irredeemable psychopath. But that’s what I was there to find out! 

“You think a  _ hug  _ will stop me?” his tone conveyed nothing of the disdain his magic had.

“Stop you? No. Nothing will stop you when you put your mind to something,” I gently said—his magic stilled at my words. “But it’s what I’m owed. If a cutie patootie is gonna poke fun at me, that cutie patootie better be prepared to give me a condolence hug.”

Tom Riddle’s magic wavered. It felt as if he had become a fog of disbelief and suspicion. He scooted away from me, warily watching me as if I were about to attack him at any moment. I patiently waited for his response; several minutes went by.

He finally broke eye contact from me and looked away. “... Susurrar. It’s Latin and the best translation would be:  _ to whisper _ .”

“Thank you, Tom.”

“You’re welcome, Rosie.”

“Do you want another hug?”

“Get out.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

With the provided password I was able to open the sink as soon as I hissed out, “Susurrar.”

No noise was made as the slink rose up into the air to reveal a wide and dark pit below.

“Iris,” I hissed out and Iris slithered out from under my collar to make herself big enough for me to ride on her. With ease, she floated—occamy did not use their wings to fly, they used magic to do so; their wings were to guide—us down into the pit. 

“Can you smell the snake?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Remember the plan?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Good girl.”

Iris flew us through the sewers and straight into the heart of the chambers. 

I had anticipated a certain stench, you know, being in  _ sewers _ . I had steeled my nerves in preparation for what was to come but I was so very pleasantly surprised that it did not in fact reek of shit and piss. If anything, it smelled like the lake out by Hogwarts. 

And pines.

I didn’t know how, but the Chamber of Secrets had a very subtle scent of pines.

10/10, the best smell ever.

The sewers were long and dark. Frankly, I couldn’t see my hand in front of me so I had to conjure the bluebell fires into the palm of my hands in order to see. The stones were black and tiled, and despite how old I knew they were they looked brand spanking new. We flew through the dark tunnels for a few minutes before they opened up to the Chambers.

It… wasn’t as similar to the movies as I expected. The stones were pitch black and it was hard to make out Salazar Slytherin’s face in the stone work. There were torches lined up all along the wall that were lit with a cool blue-green flame. The water from the sewers went into canals that ran on the outskirts of the chambers. There was no pool of water by Salazar’s face, only pristine black tiles. 

On the right and on the left of Salazar’s face I could see two dark tunnels with no light. They were too small to make me think they were connected to the sewers, and at a glance, I wondered if they were built in hallways to lead to other rooms? 

Iris dropped me off in front of the mouth. I pulled out the rooster from my expandable bag and handed it to her. She wrapped the end of her tail around its mouth—careful not to block its nostrils—and floated up to the top of the head. If the basilisk made any move to kill me, she would release the rooster and squeeze it until it let out a caw to kill it.

I had to rely on her judgment since I would keep my eyes closed while greeting the basilisk. 

_ This  _ password, I at least knew with absolute certainty.

“Speak to me, Salazar Slytherin.” 

I couldn’t see much of anything since I started to squeeze my eyes shut. I listened to the stones move to let me know that password had worked. There were several seconds of tense silence before I heard the basilisk leave its den. It slid across the slick stone floor, a deep rumbling growl in its throat.

“Heir,” it greeted me, its voice gravelly. It was deep enough I thought it was a male voice, but I couldn’t be too certain.

“Greetings,” I said, feeling it near me and sniffing.

“Your magic… strong. Good… Old… yes... Strong heir. Smell like older heir? Older heir with you?”

“In a way,” I answered after a moment of hesitation.

“Time to hunt? Have… have the Muggles come to attack? Are thou 'i danger?”

The switch from you to thou had me confused.

**_“It only knew Latin and Old English,”_ ** Tom explained quietly to me.

_ “Did you teach it modern?” _

Tom’s magic shifted. I had not yet accused him of being the previous heir, nor had it brought it up. Tom knew I wasn’t slow, and the basilisk had already mentioned how I smelt like the older heir. It wouldn’t take rocket science for Tom to assume I had discovered he was the heir. 

**_“Teach is not the word I would describe. Basilisks are capable of absorbing magic—it’s how they can survive so long without consuming flesh. When absorbing the magic of a wizard it can retain some of its knowledge.”_ **

_ “That’s amazing!” _

**_“It’s one of the main reasons why Slytherin chose the basilisk to remain. It’s the only species that could live indefinitely in Hogwarts and adapt to any language the descendants might learn to speak.”_ **

“I am not in danger,” I told the basilisk. “The war against the Muggles has ended. The witch hunts are over.”

“You are safe?”

“Yes.”

The basilisk sniffed me once more. “I shall hie back to sleep.  Praesidium cum requires, me suscita, Salutem tenebo .”

_ “I’m going to have to learn Latin and Old English aren’t I?” _

**_“Yes.”_ **

“Stop,” I told the basilisk who—from what it sounded like—had started to turn away. It paused upon my order. “I brought you food.”

“Food?” It sniffed the air. “... Snake?”

“Not her. She is my familiar,” I told the basilisk. “Close your eyes and I will pull out what I have purchased for you.”

I counted to thirty, then opened my eyes.

The basilisk was a dead ringer for the one out of the movies. It was dark mossy green with ridges reminiscent of a dragon atop its head. Its eyes were closed shut, and while I could not see its fangs—for it kept its mouth closed—I could easily imagine that they were bigger than my arms and coated in sticky black venom. 

I reached out a hand and placed it on its snout, its hot breath washing over me. 

_ Big babeh snake. _

In my messenger bag, I summoned the dozens of carcasses I had ordered from a butcher shop. 

“The meat is cold. Would you like me to warm it up?” I offered the basilisk once I finished laying everything on the stone floor.

The basilisk sniffed at the nearest butchered cow. “ Noli fac .”

Then it proceeded to eat everything, each piece only taking one gulp to get down. While he ate, I took that time to re-examine the chambers.

“Are there any other rooms here?” I asked both Tom and the basilisk.

“Salazar kept  subsecivia cellae .”

I flushed, trying to think up of what  subsecivia cellae was.

**_“Spare rooms.”_ **

_ “Oh.” _

“The older heir could not find them,” the basilisk told me as it gobbled up a pig. “ Illas nolebat conabatur inveniunt, facias .”

_ “Note to self: order flashcards and Latin guide ASAP.” _

**_“Flashcards?”_ **

Once it—although the more I heard it speak the more I started to think of it as a he—finished eating he turned his head to me and hissed out, “Call and I will come.”

The basilisk flipped his head around and slithered back into the hole to slumber.

“Welp,” I said out loud while clapping my hands. “Let’s learn us some Latin first, then come back and explore. I’ve got a feeling all the hidden rooms will have Latin passwords.”

**_“Most definitely.”_ **

With sincere gratitude, I shared my happiness with Tom. “ _ Thank you, Tom. This was fun, and it was made all the more delightful by your presence.”  _

Tom’s magic wavered as if he had faltered in his thought process. 

**_“You are welcome, Rosie.”_ **

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Latin wasn’t going to be a fun thing to learn. Outside of English, I only knew French and German—Remus and Sirius insisted on Harry and I knew those two languages. I had a feeling it was a backup plan in case we had to flee, so I wasn’t at a complete disadvantage. 

It had been said that it was easier to learn a new language if one already knew multiple; but I had no teacher, and that was  _ such  _ an important thing when learning a language. Books only taught the grammar and written version of it. There was no one who could correct my pronunciation. There were text-to-speak spells that could help me  _ hear  _ the words but that wouldn’t be enough.

“Does anyone here know Latin?” I asked my babeh snakes study group in our gothic common room. 

They all shook their heads. Daphne frowned. “My father does. Do you need something translated?”

“Tragically, I must learn it.”

“Why?”

“Keep it between us,” I said, which instantly made all the second year babeh snakes lean in excitedly as they promised to do exactly that. “I found the Chamber of Secrets.”

Draco excitedly gasped like the little kid he was. “Father said that would happen this year! You’re the Heir of Slytherin?”

“Yes and no,” I answered. “I am a Parselmouth so I have inherited the ability to access the Chamber, but I would not consider myself the true heir.”

“Are you going to unleash the monster?” Theodore dubiously asked.

“No,” I answered with a head shake. “Well. Okay I already  _ did _ , but it went back to sleep. I need to learn Latin to speak with it.”

“Ooooh,” they all said as if that made sense.

“It  _ would  _ be ancient, wouldn’t it?” Daphne mused.

“Didn’t Latin die out before Hogwarts, though?” Tracey questioned.

“Apparently Slytherin felt the need that all of his descendants knew Latin.” I shrugged. “There are some secrets in the Chambers I’m willing to bet are hidden behind Latin passcodes, too.”

“If Slytherin wanted all of his descendants to learn Latin, shouldn’t that be taught at Hogwarts?” Millicent quietly asked. “At the—at the very least, shouldn’t Slytherins be taught it? 

“That’s brilliant, Millie!” I praised the girl, eliciting a blush. She may have been bigger than Vincent and Gregory, but she was the daintiest out of all of us sometimes. She also had the cutest little giggle, too. “You know what, I’m going to go to Professor Dumbledore’s office right now and see if he can set up a teacher for next year.”

“But it’s almost curf—”

“It cannot wait,” I declared firmly, putting away my textbook and dashing out the common room. “See you guys later!”

It took a solid five minutes of straight jogging to make it to Professor Dumbledore’s office. Hogwarts was a huge castle and I had to run from the dungeons to the opposite side of it  _ and  _ climb seven flights of stairs.

If I wasn’t in shape it would’ve been a nightmare. Still had me out of breath by the time I reached the gargoyle. In between gasps of air I started to list random sweets that might be his password. “Lemon drop, dowickle, bungee gum, chocolate, candy, sweets, fairy floss, cotton candy, snickers, snickerdoodles, chocolatechip, chips, strawberry, chocolate covered strawberries, lollipops—”

The gargoyle swung back.

_ Whoa, it really was candy related? Really? _

With a shrug I hopped onto the gargoyle staircase and it spun me around as it took me up. I stepped off it when it reached Professor Dumbledore’s office.

His office was lovely. Magic filled the air, cram-packed, and vibrating from intensity because of all the artifacts he had scattered about it. It was a bit suffocating, actually. Hogwarts’ magic was like having a wool blanket on me. Professor Dumbledore’s office was having Sirius throw that big ass unicorn on top of me again.

Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk, some paperwork spread out before him that I couldn’t accurately read upside down. Some words I recognized—mainly Wizengamot—but what they were about was a total mystery.

“Hello Grandpa,” I said, then gasped and blushed when I realized I accidentally called him Grandpa due to my flustered state. “Sorry! I adopted you as my grandpa in my head, it just slipped out.”

Professor Dumbledore laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling. “How flattering, Miss Potter. What can I help you with this evening?”

“So I need to learn Latin and I was talking with my bab—I mean my peers and we realized that Latin should be an optional class at Hogwarts. We were hoping we could set up an elective for it.”

“And what brought this on, Miss Potter?” Professor Dumbledore kindly inquired.

“I found the Chamber of Secrets and I want to talk with the basilisk inside but it keeps talking in Latin.”

“Oh.” Professor Dumbledore blinked twice before he took off his half-moon spectacles. There was a long pause as the headmaster processed what exactly I had said out loud. 

I had always wondered what his initial reactions would be to that revelation. Dumbledore was known to be eccentric genius. Many of his actions in the canonical story had hidden meanings that could only be spotted years later or after multiple rereads. His intentions typically aligned with the Light, so I was not afraid of him harming me. He certainly didn’t strike me as the sort of man to attack a child without an extremely good reason. Even when Draco was about to murder the man, he calmly tried to talk him down for  _ Draco’s  _ sake. 

There was little reason to hide the fact that I found the Chambers. If I was able to properly explore it, I’d honestly prefer I did it  _ with  _ Dumbledore and a team of people he trusted. The man would be far better at spotting hidden traps Salazar left than I did. That being said, I didn’t want to needlessly risk  _ the  _ Professor Dumbledore fighting  _ the  _ basilisk of the Chambers. 

I was expendable, he was not. If I died fighting the basilisk, then I knew Dumbledore would carry on with the story fine and dandy. 

If  _ Dumbledore  _ died?

I mean I wasn’t going to  _ run away  _ or anything, but gosh that’d make things so much harder. If Voldemort were ever prematurely resurrected he’d have no reason not to target Hogwarts right off the bat. I hadn’t cleaned out the government yet which meant that it’d become compromised within a year or two… 

Ugh. I was clever, but not clever enough to come up with a situation to deal with  _ that _ . Dumbledore was the best Voldemort deterrent we had on hand. There was no good reason to risk putting his life in danger, nor did I have any desire to try and explain why exactly I was already carrying a rooster. I didn’t have the confidence to try and bullshit my way through a conversation with Professor Dumbledore. 

If he caught me lying, it’d only make the situation worse for me in the long run—at least that was the instinctive gut feeling I had. 

Ergo: be as truthful as can be when with Dumbledore, but not  _ so  _ truthful to reveal all the future information I had. 

Professor Dumbledore recovered after another minute. “ _ Oh _ . I see. This is a wonderful find, Miss Potter.”

_ Wow. No questions?  _

“Yeah. I don’t want to leave him there indefinitely, so I’ll have to talk to Paddy about making a spot for him at home,” I said quietly, mostly to myself. It was hard to fight the urge to ask Dumbledore why he wasn’t asking me more questions. I didn’t  _ want  _ him to ask me questions, so I was afraid if I asked him he’d start asking me. I was prepared for it, but if he was going to let me drop that bomb without repercussions then I wasn’t going to go looking for consequences. “Hm.”

“Keeping a basilisk as a pet is usually illegal,” Professor Dumbledore politely informed me as he began to clean his spectacles with a handkerchief. 

“Usually?”

“One must acquire a license.”

“How does one do that?”

“A N.E.W.T. in Care of Magical Creatures for starters.”

“Any exceptions?”

“Not in recent memory.”

“Hmmm… What if he… hmmm…  _ hmm _ …” I genuinely couldn’t see a way around that without pulling out my alias to push some political power. I  _ could  _ do it, but it’d be a waste of the favors I had already won over. 

Professor Dumbledore smiled at me. “Perhaps it would be best if the basilisk were to remain in the Chambers until you graduate? I’m sure you’ll be able to obtain the license.”

“Oh, would that be okay?” I asked, surprised. “I know he, uh, he’s a bit on the lethal side.”

“It is my understanding that the  _ monster  _ of Slytherin will not attack without provocation. You will not provoke it?”

“Not unless a crazy witch in pink tortures my twin brother into writing  _ I must not tell lies  _ with his own blood,” I promised him. “Only in that specific scenario will I unleash him. You have my word.”

**_“That is oddly specific.”_ **

“That is oddly specific, Miss Potter,” Professor Dumbledore noted, his smile curled a bit wider in amusement. “Care to share?”

“A terrible nightmare I had,” I told him. “It was dreadful. I vowed to destroy any sadistic lady who dresses in pink and has pictures of cute kitty cats in her office while torturing students. Such evil should not exist.”

“I pray such evil never appears in Hogwarts.”

“Me, too.”

“In the meantime,” Professor Dumbledore said with a feathery tone, “given the circumstances, it might be best to seek tutelage. I will see if the board will be interested in adding an elective.”

“Oh they will be. I’ll tell my snakes to write to their parents,” I said cheerfully. 

“How helpful.”

“Know any good tutors in Latin at Hogwarts?”

“One does come to mind.”

“Thanks, Grandpa. You’re the best.”

Professor Dumbledore shook his head in amusement while he chuckled. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

  1. See if basilisk will become a Good Boy™ or Dead Boy™.



**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting to see how people on different sites reacted to Tom / Fenrir. 
> 
> **Wattpad**  
>  : hELL YEAH!!   
>  (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> **Ao3**  
>  : She’s insane, we LOVE IT!   
>  (✪㉨✪)
> 
> **Fanfic**  
>  : WOO   
>  (ó㉨ò)ﾉ♡   
>  or I Don’t Like.   
>  (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻  
> 
> 
> Y’all a buncha cuties. 
> 
> (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞
> 
> Dumbledore has his reasons. He always has his reasons. Future re-readers will know. 
> 
> I have my own theories on Parseltongue and the Chambers. I feel like someone as cunning as Salazar wouldn’t choose   
>  _  
>  open   
>  _  
>  as the main password, since it was canonically shown through Ron that anyone can learn Parsletongue. But I do feel like there ought to be a way for an heir to change the passwords after unlocking the Chambers.
> 
> And maybe an heir decided to do exactly that to make it easier to trick a certain hero into stumbling into his trap. 
> 
> See you next week! 
> 
> **Answer:**  
>  If I was a pure-blood then Chamber of Secrets would be fine. If not, Philosopher Stone would probably be the safest one. Tourney would be great if I was an older witch with a talent for magic. 
> 
> **Question:**  
>  What’s another language you wish you could learn? 
> 
> Reviews are   
>  **love**  
>  !


	19. Year 2 - 6

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

“Good morning Miss Potter,” said a pretty blonde Ravenclaw who approached me at breakfast. I shifted in my seat at the Slytherin table to get a better look at her. Her hair was long, straight, and neatly pushed back by a blue and black headband. She had a nice smile which made me reflexively smile back at her.

“Good morning,” I greeted pleasantly.

“I’m Penelope Clearwater,” Penelope introduced herself. “I was told you want to learn Latin?”

“Oh!” I brightened. “Yes. Actually,  _ all  _ of us would like to. Would that be okay?”

Penelope’s cheeks reddened and she looked over at the other second-year Slytherins in surprise. “All of you? I suppose I could. Are you guys free, say, Sunday evenings?”

“We’ll make time for it. The library might not be big enough to accommodate all of us, but there’s an empty classroom near the potions room,” I said. “Would it be okay to meet there?”

“Sure,” Penelope said sweetly. “I’ll see you all next Sunday.”

“Thank you,” we politely said on cue. A snake should never initiate malice without reason. Penelope was doing us a favor, so we had to treat her courteously. Doing anything less would be… bad.

And if a snake was being bad, that meant they needed to be disciplined.

Which sounded awful on its own, but I didn’t see it any different from a parent scolding a child for misbehaving. I wasn’t about to raise these babeh snakes to start wailing in public at the slightest issue. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

October rolled into November without much fanfare. Latin tutoring started up without fuss. When Theodore mentioned it to Hermione on our run, Hermione, Harry, and Neville requested to tag along. Penelope was flattered to have so many people who wanted to learn under her, but since the group had gotten so big she had to enlist the help of a second helper. She had talked to Professor Flitwick and Professor Flitwick recommended Cedric Diggory. 

What. A. Coincidence.

Hermione, Pansy, and Tracey certainly weren’t complaining about Cedric’s involvement. The three girls were not-so-subtly swooning over the fourth year, much to the chagrin of the boys. 

All the other classes were progressing well enough except for DADA. 

Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to them and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions. He did pull me up once, but I “accidentally” kept sneezing fireballs at him and “tripping” in such a manner I ended up kicking his shins three times. 

He stopped calling on me. 

Unfortunately, my brother was too kind for such tactics. It greatly amused me to see him suffer a bit so I hadn’t stepped in on his behalf. Already, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him. 

Harry was hauled to the front of the class during another Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. Harry  _ hated _ to act like a werewolf. We both found Lockhart’s perspective on werewolves to be deeply insulting to our favorite uncle. 

“Go ahead then Harry, give us a nice howl,” Professor Lockhart said encouragingly.

Harry stared at Lockhart for several seconds then turned to me and said, “Rosie, please.”

I rubbed at my nose. “Oh, no! Professor Lockhart I think—I think I’ve got the fireball sneezes again.”

Professor Lockhart let out a feminine yelp and I “sneezed” a fireball where his feet were. The magic fire I conjured was harmless—a heated illusion, really—but Lockhart did his best to not find out first hand. I continued to “sneeze” at him until he fled into his back office and shrieked, “Self study, children!”

“I hate this class,” Theodore bemoaned. 

“C’mon, he’ll be gone by next year.”

“Bet he trips and breaks his neck down the stairs,” Draco muttered.

“He’s too agile,” Daphne disagreed. “I bet he’ll drown himself.”

“How?” Theodore was incredulous.

“Don’t know. But that’s where my money is.”

“I want in. I bet Rosie sets him on fire,” Pansy jeered.

“That’s far too messy of a cleanup,” I disagreed.

“And illegal,” Harry added.

I coughed and looked away.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “And  _ wrong _ .”

I started to whistle innocently.

“Rosie…”

“Think we should start a betting pool?” Draco mused, ignoring how Harry was glaring at me and I was pretending to play innocent to his glares.

“That might be a bit much,” Hermione put in. “He’s still a person.”

“Then you want to bet he’ll simply be let go?”

Hermione pursed her lips. “I don’t want to  _ bet  _ anything. If I  _ must  _ make a guess on his future, then he’ll simply be called away from Hogwarts. Likely to save another village.”

“How dull,” the Slytherins sighed.

“I bet he’ll get maimed,” Draco said, pulling out a parchment paper and starting to write down what we were betting.

“Sticking with drowning,” Daphne firmly stated.

“I bet he’ll be perfectly fine and  _ choose  _ to leave to write another book,” Harry put in.

“I bet he’ll be fired,” Neville quietly added.

“Sticking with Rosie driving him off somehow,” Pansy stubbornly said.

“Well, then,” I chewed on my bottom lip. “I bet he’ll be arrested and dragged out by aurors while deliriously shouting about how he’s secretly been Obliviating the real heroes behind the stories and taking credits.”

**_“Again: that’s oddly specific.”_ **

“That’s really specific,” Harry commented with a frown. 

“Write that down, Draco,” I said, neatly sidestepping Harry’s unspoken question of  _ why _ . 

Instead of studying, we spent the entire class period coming up with ways we hoped Professor Lockhart would get sacked. Only when the bell rang did Professor Lockhart step out of his office to try and grab Harry. 

“Ah—Harry, won’t you stay for a moment—?”

Harry literally sprinted out of the room before he could finish. 

_ “Say, Tom. Wanna brew a completely illegal veritaserum potion over Christmas with me?” _

**_“You’re going to use it on Lockhart?”_ **

_ “Yep.” _

**_“Sounds fun.”_ **

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Veritaserum was a difficult brew, but not  _ the  _ hardest potion to make. A letter home had Kreacher purchasing all the supplies I needed to brew one in my own Slytherin bedroom. Granted, I had to lose my desk for a solid month because of how it needed to be set up but it was a price worth paying. Professor Lockhart was such an aggravation, and his insistent prejudice against my furry babehs made him Unforgivable™ in my book. 

It was only a matter of seeing exactly how much he pissed me off. 

Setting him on fire wasn’t completely off the table. Wouldn’t  _ kill  _ him, but it’d definitely hurt.

I wasn’t—I wasn’t inherently against murder. I felt no discomfort for the thought. Simple death did not bother me. Only death with regrets perturbed me. 

No. My beef with murder wasn’t the morality of it, or something equally silly.

If I had to kill someone, that meant I wasn’t smart enough to come up with a way to deal with them. I wasn’t cunning enough to use them, nor charming enough to manipulate them. I lacked the foresight and knowledge to turn the situation into an advantage. It was a mark against me. A failure.

A regret.

I had worked hard over the past decade to become something I could have only dreamed about in my previous life. I was a thief, a witch who used Light and Dark magic, and someone with enough reckless curiosity to try out things others wouldn’t consider. I worked hard to hone my skillset to achieve the ideal me.

Tom’s manner of manipulation was something I admired and I wished I could replicate it for myself. If I could, imagine the changes I could bring about without needing to resort to violence. The game of wits I could play! The life of a silver tongue, what a fascinating life it must be. 

Maybe a werewolf country wouldn’t be so out of reach. 

Such a thing would require someone of high intelligence, cunning, wit, and the ability to foresee long term issues and solutions. Someone smart enough to make a werewolf country shouldn’t be so stupid to  _ need  _ to literally kill someone in their way. 

On the morning of the first Quidditch match of the year I set up the copper cauldron and began brewing veritaserum. The potions had to be slowly added over an entire lunar cycle. Better to start as early as possible. 

Once that was done, I got dressed in my warm clothes and headed out to the Quidditch field with Daphne, Pansy, and Tracey. It was a muggy day with a hint of thunder in the air.

“I hope it doesn’t rain,” Pansy said, peering up at the sky. 

“We can practice our umbrella charms if it does,” I said.

“Do you know the incantation and wandwork?” Daphne asked.

“Yeah. Not very good with it, though,” I said as I tucked behind a stray curl that had freed itself from my bun. 

Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary. 

“On my whistle,” said Madam Hooch. “Three... two... one... ” 

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, exchanging nods with Draco as the two Seekers began their hunt for the snitch.

There was no time for chit chat because a heavy black bludger came pelting toward Harry; he avoided it so narrowly I almost thought it actually hit him.

“Close one, Harry!” said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. 

Harry saw George give the bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again. Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Draco who did a quick maneuver to dodge. Once again, the bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry’s head. Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch.

Fred Weasley was waiting for the bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the bludger was knocked off course.

“Gotcha!” Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed.

**_“It’s focusing on your brother. That’s odd.”_ **

_ “It’s been tampered with.” _

**_“Why?”_ **

_ “Could be any number of reasons. A lot of people want us dead.” _

**_“Why? What did you do?”_ **

_ “We’re hailed as saviors for vanquishing Lord Voldemort.” _

Tom’s magic violently lurched, as if his heart had stopped beating. Alarm, anger, and disbelief seeped out of his magic and into my own.

_ “We didn’t vanquish,”  _ I admitted to him. The power behind his anger was startling. I knew he would be upset when I told him the truth, but I had not expected the violent tidal wave that battered against my mind. Even unintentionally fighting me, Tom’s magic was a force to be reckoned with. “ _ He’s not dead, merely gone. We were only a year old when it happened.” _

**_“How?”_ **

_ “How indeed? He made a terrible mistake, Tom. He acted foolishly and got caught.”  _

**_“That’s not possible.”_ **

_ “And yet it’s the truth. Lord Voldemort has been defeated so soundly that his Death Eaters fled him. It’s why, despite it being over a decade since, he has not been resurrected. He has no one to turn to.”  _

Tom’s magic recoiled as if struck. His rage was dark, and it physically made me nauseous to feel it inside me. It made my own magic ache in ways I couldn’t put into words. My hands started to tremble as I had to consciously focus on calming my own magic to try and soothe his. I had to make it look natural enough that Tom wouldn’t pick up on the fact that I felt his magic. His mania outburst was staggering, his magic churning violently like a raging ocean. 

But beneath that madness there was a glimmer of something else.

Of hurt.

Such a tiny little speck so deeply shoved down beneath the rage it would have been easy to miss.

I kept my magic calm, warm, and gentle as I further intermingled it with his. Like a friend reaching out and grasping his hand in comfort. 

_ “Are you okay, Tom?”  _

**_“I—I am fine, Rosie,”_ ** Tom said charmingly, his voice like melted caramel despite the torrent of fury his magic had become. “ **_I’m so terribly sorry to hear how people want to hurt you, though. Are_ ** **you** **_okay?”_ **

_ “I’m fine,”  _ I reassured him confidently as I continued to watch Harry try to dodge the Bludger. Although I had to suppress my wince at the sharp spike in nausea when his dark magic dipped down from fury to pure hatred. “ _ It doesn’t bother me at all.” _

**_“Even though he tried to kill you?”_ **

_ “I was angry that he killed our parents, but anger doesn’t do me any good. I would have done the same in his place. It’d make me a hypocrite to dislike him over something like that.” _

Which was accurate. If I viewed someone as a threat to my family and could not think of a way to deal with them, I would kill them. As for how I felt on Voldemort? There was no hatred, or intense dislike anymore. Time had taken care of that, and I wasn’t so petty of a person to hold onto that anger for over a decade. Even my intense disdain for Peter dulled down. I would still violently murder him if given the chance, but I wasn’t going to lose sleep if the stupid rat died of natural causes before I got the chance. Voldemort was insane; a rabid dog. He was a threat, he would be dealt with accordingly. 

I was admittedly scared of him and those maddened red eyes, but that wasn’t going to slow me down. 

**_“You would have?”_ ** His magic paused at that, surprise rippling across it. The intense, sharp hatred in his magic cooled back down to anger. 

_ “Sure. He thought we were a threat. I guess he couldn’t come up with a way to deal with us outside of killing us, so he tried to kill us. A bit Gryffindor of him, but maybe he was in a rush.”  _

His magic fluttered, my words surprising him enough that the storm had come to an abrupt pause. “ **_What do you mean ‘Gryffindor of him’?”_ **

_ “Well,”  _ I started to explain, “ _ if a Slytherin has to kill someone that means they’re too stupid to come up with another way to deal with them.”  _

Oof.

I offended him.

I definitely offended him.

**_“Sometimes there_ ** **is** **_no other way,”_ ** he sharply pointed out, blatantly irritated. 

_ “That you can think of,”  _ I agreed. 

His magic whirled in annoyance. I kept my magic around his own, wanting to help soothe the torrent of fury he had felt before. 

It had started to rain, so we practiced our umbrella charm. It took me a couple tries to get it right—both because of lack of practice and Tom’s anger made me nauseous—but once mine was up I taught it to the other students. We all got to enjoy the Quidditch match without getting soaked. 

Daphne, in an oddly concerned tone said, “That bludger really likes Harry.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “He’s very charming, you know. Not nearly as much as I am, but still very good.”

The girls giggled.

I didn’t pay much attention to the match, my gaze focused on Harry and the obsessed bludger that chased after him. When the rain had started to pick up much harder Harry literally jumped off his broom—thankfully he was near the ground—to grab at what I assumed to be the snitch. 

The thud on the muddy ground made my heart leap, and I jumped out of the stands with my wand whipped out. It had been a purely instinctive reaction, some ingrained maternal instinct coming to life when I saw my little Harry tumble to the ground awkwardly.

As I neared the earth I pointed my wand down and quickly performed, “ _ Pulvinos _ .”

The ground beneath me became as springy as a trampoline, catching my fall. After years of using that maneuver to escape Muggle police, I had come up with a technique to roll forward when it launched me back up so it wouldn’t actually bring me skyward.

Within seconds, I had rolled across the mud and jumped back up onto my feet. I had reached Harry just as the rest of the Gryffindor team arrived. 

_ Uncanny,  _ I thought as I stared at Harry’s plainly broken arm. 

“Aha,” Harry said, his eyes unfocused and glazed over from the pain. “We’ve won.”

He fainted. I conjured my umbrella again to hold it above him while I kneeled at his head. Professor Lockhart and the Gryffindor Quidditch team had arrived as Harry came back to.

“Oh, no, not you,” he moaned. 

“Doesn’t know what he’s saying,” said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. “Not to worry, Harry. I’m about to fix your arm.”

“No!” said Harry. “I’ll keep it like this, thanks.”

Harry made a move to sit up, but my hand on his shoulder kept him still. The sound of clicking drew my attention to a small boy with curly blond hair who held up a big camera and started to take pictures. 

The Slytherin team had arrived, a few of them peeling off from the group to help Fred and George shove the rogue Bludger back into place. 

“I don’t want a photo of this, Colin,” he said loudly. 

“Lie back, Harry,” said Lockhart soothingly. “It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times—”

“Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?” said Harry through clenched teeth. 

“He should really, Professor,” said a muddy Wood, who couldn’t help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. “Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I’d say—” 

“Stand back,” said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

My eyes narrowed at Lockhart. “Stop right there, he’s already told you  _ no _ . Cast a single spell on my brother’s head and I’ll bust your kneecaps before you can even beg for forgiveness.”

Professor Lockhart gaped. “Come now, such a thing isn’t necessary—really, I’ve done this countless times.”

He then twirled his wand and directed it at Harry’s arm.

“I warned you,” I snarled, standing up. With a quick jump and spin I did a hard roundhouse kick into Lockhart’s face. He sprawled onto the ground with a keening wail like a baby. I took that opportunity to point my wand at his knees and his out, “ _ Novis Genu _ .”

A neat little spell Remus had taught me to use against Sirius. It turned the knees backward. Not painful… unless he tried to walk. 

I would have pulled out one of my hammers I kept in my bag if I had thought to bring it. I thought Lockhart would have heeded my warning, but apparently he was too stupid to do so. 

“What is going on here!” Madam Hooch thundered as she reached the team—she had to collect the other balls first.

“This pompous idiot assaulted my brother,” I said, kicking Lockhart in the jinxed knees. He cried out in pain, and apparently the pain was so intense he passed out.

_ “Pathetic,”  _ I thought, and I could feel Tom’s magic agree with me.

“What?” Madam Hooch.

“Professor Lockhart wanted to cast a spell on Harry, Rosie warned him not to but he did it anyway,” Draco stepped forward in my defense.

“That’s classic assault,” added Adrien. 

“We all saw,” one of the Gryffindor chasers said. “Harry and Rosie told him not to.”

“I felt my brother was threatened and took appropriate action to defend him,” I said as Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape reached us. They had taken the stairs down, after all. 

“What’s the issue?” Professor McGonagall asked. 

“This,” Harry said as he tried to raise his now boneless arm. “Lockhart did it to me.”

“ _ What? _ ”

It took several minutes of explaining before the professors took Harry and Lockhart up to Madam Pomfrey, and I was escorted by Professor Snape to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore’s office was as suffocating in magic as it was the last time, so it was with a grimace that I entered it.

But I beamed when I saw my favorite old schemer. “Hi, Professor Dumbledore!’

“Hello, Miss Potter. What’s the issue, Professor Snape?”

“Miss Potter thought it best to knock Professor Lockhart out and jinx his knees backward,” Professor Snape carefully said. 

“And why is that?”

“Harry broke his arm. Lockhart wanted to cast a spell to try and fix it, but we all know he’s garbage so I warned him not to. He did it anyway. I deemed him a threat to my brother’s safety and took him out,” I said with a shrug. “Classic self-defense. Do I need to press charges?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Professor Dumbledore said. “Miss Potter, assaulting a professor is not something to be done lightly.”

“If  _ anyone  _ attacks Harry or me I  _ will  _ defend us,” I sternly rebuked, my eyes narrowed. “Should I have continued to let the man cast spells on my brother—spells that could have potentially killed him?”

“No, but you should have sought out a teacher.”

“They were already too slow to stop the first one. Seeking out help could have meant a second spell would be cast against him and that spell could have been fatal. What if he vanished the bones inside his skull next?” I paused. “That being said I do understand that I can’t go unpunished for what I did otherwise other students might try to manipulate situations where they can claim self-defense. So how many detentions will I be receiving?”

“A month,” Professor Snape suggested with a chilly tone. “I need an extra set of hands preparing potion ingredients.”

Given that Professor Snape still didn’t like me—I couldn’t tell if I was in the actively dislike or neutral camp—I had a feeling it was going to be some pretty nasty ingredients. Urk. 

“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” I agreed with a wince, looking from Professor Snape to Professor Dumbledore. 

“So glad we could come to an arrangement,” Professor Dumbledore mused. 

“‘Course. I already know Lockhart won’t last the rest of the year, no need to make too big of a fuss,” I said with a big smile. “We’ve got a running pool on how we think the DADA curse will get him, either of you want to participate?”

“Has drowning been suggested?” Professor Snape inquired, but cleared his throat when Professor Dumbledore gave him a warning look.

“Wow. Actually, yes. How the dilly dally heck do you and Daphne think he’ll  _ drown _ ?”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**_“You are… not incorrect,”_ ** Tom told me as I left Professor Dumbledore’s office. “ **_To take a life because they are in your way is… very brutish.”_ **

His anger had cooled down completely. It helped seeing me kick Lockhart, but Tom really just needed time to process the information I had given him. It was a lot to take in, I understood that. He had high expectations of himself—or perhaps high  _ hopes _ would be more apt. Being told he met failure had to hurt. 

Although it was when I told him that Lord Voldemort had no one that his anger truly spiked. 

Lonely boy. No experience in making friends, he probably deluded himself into thinking what he had with his followers was equally valuable or perhaps of greater value than friendship. 

The hurt that I felt underneath the anger was… good. It was good that he was able to feel hurt at all, his emotions weren’t limited to anger and apathy. 

His world wasn’t so monotone, and I felt genuinely happy for him.

No one deserved to live life experiencing only rage and indifference. 

_ “Obviously it’s completely different to take a life when you need to do a ritual or something,”  _ I told him.

**_“That goes without saying.”_ **

_ “But… you agree?” _

**_“I… cannot find fault with your logic.”_ **

_ “Thank you, Tom. It makes me happy we agree on something.” _

**_“Why?”_ **

_ “Because it means we’re one step closer to being friends.”  _

Unintentionally, Tom’s magic shyly curled into mine.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

  1. Is Lockhart a genius at politics? I need to know how tf someone so seemingly stupid is able to manipulate the press. Might be good to befriend him to prepare for the upcoming political climate. **Note: DUDE’S AN IDIOT. NOT WORTH THE TROUBLE.**



**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Answer:** Japanese and/or Korean
> 
> **Question:** What position would you want to play in Quidditch? 
> 
> Reviews are  **love** !


	20. Year 2 - 7

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

On Sunday morning I met Harry on the way to the hospital wing. He had apparently been on the way to the dungeons to search for me.

“Good morning, dear. Feeling better?” I asked him. Iris slithered out of my clothes to greet Harry. She sniffed at his cheek, looking him up and down for injuries.

“Right as rain,” said Harry as he scratched the top of Iris’s head. 

“Lockhart?”

“Pomfrey had to vanish and regrow his kneecaps,” Harry said with a big grin. He only had his grin for a moment though before it was gone. “Rosie, that House Elf, Dobby, visited me. He’s trying to get us to leave the school.”

“Why hasn’t he visited me?” I wondered out loud. I couldn’t exactly claim I had grown fond of Dobby and ask Draco for him that way if I never even met the elf. It would be odd and out of the blue to purchase the Malfoy elf, and I couldn’t jeopardize my relationship with Draco by tricking Lucien into freeing Dobby. My best bet was to hopefully have the elf come to  _ me  _ at least once. Harry shrugged.

“He mentioned the Chamber of Secrets, know anything about it?”

“Yeah I found it.”

“Oh.”

“Parselmouth thing.”

“Well he thinks it’s gonna kill us.”

“Nah. It’s why I’m learning Latin.”

“What?”

I gave him a quick explanation, he let out an  _ oh  _ as he connected the dots. 

“Okay. I’ll tell him to sod off next I see him.”

“Okay, dear.”

“Um…” Harry scratched at his cheek sheepishly. “Can I have Iris for the day?”

“Want some cuddles?”

“Yeah.”

Iris trilled and dove under Harry’s sweater. She popped her head back out in order to nuzzle into his neck. 

“Take care you two.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

November crept by without much fuss and December was a lovely affair. I finished the veritaserum before it was break time, and tested it out on one of the moron Slytherins that hadn’t completed their weekly good deed. Come Christmas break Harry and I headed home—not before I snuck my yearly Christmas present for Snape on his desk which he promptly tossed out. 

Paddy and Remus welcomed us with all the love in the world and it was nice to lounge around for an entire day. Then I had to sneak out to see how the potion brewing went.

Tom was quite impressed with what I had done with Lunar’s Orchid. 

Fenrir was beside himself with joy that the lycanthrope potion was progressing. Odette and Anyo expressed similar feelings, with the addition of Odette exclaiming, “You’re a very brilliant witch to already advance so far. The wolfsbane potion was a complete accident, you know.”

I resisted the urge to retort back that it wasn’t brilliance—it was that no one else had bothered. 

Of course, I had to also keep up appearances with the major political allies I had already ascertained—Greengrass, Longbottom, Bones, and so on. Lunar’s Orchid was a success so far, and by summer it would become Britain’s largest producer of magical herbs. It would save them a fortune on international trade taxes for those ingredients. 

It was tiring—since all that time was taken from my sleep schedule—but rewarding.

I also made sure to hug Fenrir a bunch while I was there and give him twice as many Christmas gifts as I did last year. Since living in society for over a year by that point, Fenrir had really started to take care of himself. He was looking better and better each time I saw him and I was so dang proud of him.

He was gonna be the bestest cuddle buddy in my werewolf army. 

I sent out my standard rotation of Christmas gifts: gifts for all my babeh snakes, my allies as Enáretos, and gifts for the Weasley twins as thanks for being my study buddies for warding. 

Honestly, I was pretty proud of the progress I had made on wards. I didn’t have a lot of practical experience, but I planned on changing that during the upcoming summer. 

I also went ahead and sent a little letter to Bones about some information pertaining to Lockhart she’d find very interesting.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

On midnight of Christmas Eve, I made myself comfortable in my bed. I took up a meditative pose then I slipped away into my mind palace to find Tom still on the island. He was studying the ocean intently. He did not react to my arrival immediately, taking his time to examine the dark water. Once satisfied he straightened up and gifted me that angelic fake smile. 

“Think you can cross it now?” I asked him.

“I have something I want to try,” he admitted.

His magic moved, shifting, turning, tucking, and rolling inside me. He could not directly affect my mind without first overpowering me—something he would never be able to do—but he could use magic on himself. He muttered something quietly under his breath that I could not discern. 

Then he stepped out on the water… and stood atop it.

“I had already experimented in creating flight magic for myself,” he told me. “Minor levitation should do the trick here.”

Flight magic was something special and unique. I could levitate others, but I could not levitate myself with Wingardium Leviosa nor Accio. Both of those spells required me to be anchored—or at least use myself as a focus for the magic. Self levitation and flight were entirely different. Brooms could only do so with heavy enchantment and rune work. No one had been able to replicate such things on another wizard.

Until Lord Voldemort, that is.

“That’s truly impressive,” I praised him, marveling at how effortlessly he made it look. He had no wand, after all. He wasn’t even a magical sensor. 

I stepped out onto the black water beside him. I didn’t need anything so fancy since we were inside  _ my  _ mind palace. Tom tilted his head as his dark eyes assessed me. His facial expressions were impossible to read, but the echoes of his magic betrayed his feelings. There was pleasure when I praised him, but always a layer of suspicion or distrust. It felt as if he could not accept my words at face value. 

That could stem from insecurities or a lifetime of cynicism. Either way, the only thing I could do was smile and do my best to convey my sincerity. 

“I hope you’ll like the forest even better than the island,” I said, folding my hands together as we began to walk across the dark water. 

“I’m sure I will,” he placated me.

I skipped a step so I could speed up ahead of him and walk in front. I turned on my heel to face him as I walked backward. “Merry Christmas, Tom.”

“Merry Christmas, Rosie,” he cordially returned. “Do you know what you want for Christmas?”

I smiled brightly at him. “A hug from you!”

His magic twitched in a manner that made me think he was surprised even as he kept his perfect poker face. 

“You’re not lying,” it was a question, but it came out more of a fact.

“Does it feel like I’m lying?” I asked him.

“No. Your mind is surprisingly honest,” said the boy who was so ding-dong handsome he put models to shame. 

I hmm’d at that. “What’s it like to be inside here? Do you feel the world the way I do?”

“It feels like a version of reality to me,” Tom answered. “The water is wet, the breeze is nice, and my robes are comfortable.”

“That’s nice. I was worried you could only look at it and nothing had a sense of touch to it.”

“It is real enough,” said Tom. “Certainly better than where I was before.”

“I aim to please. Say, when’s your birthday?” I asked. “You strike me as a December baby.”

His lips twitched into a ghost of a smile for a couple of seconds. “December 31st.”

“Happy early birthday.”

“Thank you.”

A pause.

“So about that hug…”

His magic fluttered in a way very similar to a soft laugh. It was surprisingly cute. Tom did not laugh, nor did his face change in the slightest bit. Tom reached forward and flicked me on the nose. “Stop talking.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Christmas Day I woke up to find Sirius had already prepared his special soufflé pancakes with fluffy eggs and sausages. Harry eagerly helped himself to a giant stack of food and I was about to grab my own plate but Sirius stopped me.

“I made you extra special ones,” Sirius said with a devious grin.

“What?” I warily asked.

He handed me a plate. 

The pancakes were shaped like unicorns and had rainbow-colored chocolate chips inside them. The sausages were neatly cut to their horn, and the eggs were arranged to look like a golden cloud for them to frolic through.

“I hate you,” I grumbled as I accepted my unicorn pancakes.

“I love my little princess,” Sirius mockingly cooed as he kissed my forehead. “I got you a unicorn onesie.”

“ _ I hate you so much _ .”

“It’s charmed to be extra comfortable. How about you put it on for us, please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Harry chimed in. “Please?”

“ _ No _ . Don’t encourage him, traitor!”

“Please,” added Remus from the kitchen table.

“Argh! Fine!” 

Not only did I have to wear the unicorn onesie, but the sneaky little Marauders snuck some pictures of me in it. 

The jerks.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Returning to Hogwarts was lackluster. The first evening back we had to pick up our studies again to prepare for exams. On the bright side, Gregory, Vincent, and Millie were doing much better than last year. The three had worked hard on keeping up with their notes—it probably helped that Tracey and Pansy reviewed their notes at the end of every week to make sure they had all the right information. 

Although Vincent had started to scribble a lot of pretty clever insults on the side of his margins. He was really determined to win at least once for our Insult Night. One of the insults even impressed Tom and he mentioned he would remember it for himself. Who knew Vincent had it in him?

On the same night that we were back at Hogwarts, I decided to approach Draco about Dobby before I missed my chance. 

“Hey Draco, how much for your House Elf?” I asked as I sat next to him in the study group.

Draco’s brow furrowed in surprise. “Dobby? Why?”

“Harry met him and liked him.”

“How—never mind. Answering your first question, probably not much. Mother and Father have been getting very cross with Dobby lately. We were thinking about getting rid of him and purchasing a new one.”

“Think they’d be willing to sell Dobby to me?”

“They’d be willing to  _ give  _ Dobby to you at this rate,” Draco muttered. “He’s pretty damaged. You sure you want him?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll tell Father.”

“Thank you. If you think it’ll be a good incentive, tell him I’ll escort him to the Chambers once I learn Latin so he can explore it himself,” I offered.

“That’s—that’s really generous,” Draco said, his face contorting into confusion. “Why—?”

“Like I said, Harry likes him. Our current House elf is Kreacher—all you have to do is mention that to your mom and I’m sure she’ll be happy to explain why I would want Dobby for Harry instead of Kreacher. Kreacher likes me, and  _ hates  _ Harry.”

Not totally true. Kreacher tolerated Harry since Harry was a polite boy who knew how to say thank you. Kreacher loathed Sirius.

“Okay, I’ll mention it.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

A week later a notice was put up in the entrance hall. Theodore was the first to point it out to us, and golly gosh was he excited. “They’re starting a Dueling Club! First meeting tonight. This is amazing.”

“Maybe,” I said, my eyes narrowed.

_ “Better not be Lockhart…” _

**_“Surely he learned his lesson after you dealt with him?”_ **

_ “You would think, wouldn’t you?” _

At eight o’clock the babeh snakes and I headed back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

“Think it’ll be Professor Flitwick? He was a dueling champion,” Theodore was practically bouncing with giddy excitement.

“Might be Professor Snape,” Draco mused. “Father says he’s good in a fight.”

Then we saw who it was, and we let out a groan. Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions—for full details, see my published works. 

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry—you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

“KICK HIS POMPOUS BUTT PROFESSOR SNAPE!” I screamed and cheered. 

“DROWN HIM!” Daphne shouted, which elicited a lot of laughter from the Slytherins who knew about the betting pool—which was basically the entire Slytherin House. Probably didn’t look too good on the other Houses that we essentially were laughing about our Head drowning a man.

“DON’T LET DAPHNE WIN!” one of the seventh years shouted amongst the laughter.

“Shut your mouth, peasant,” Daphne jeered. 

Professor Snape’s upper lip curled up in what I had now come to understand was the closest thing to a smile he could manage. It had a lovely malicious glee to it, but it was a smile nonetheless.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. 

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.” 

“Boo,” I quipped.

“One—two—three—” 

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: “ _ Expelliarmus _ !” 

There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

The Slytherins snapped in approval.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

“Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a disarming charm, as you see, I’ve lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown—yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy—however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…”

Professor Snape was disgusted. Lockhart had noticed, because he said, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me—”

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners.

I was matched up with no one. In fact, Professor Snape pulled me off to the side and away from everyone else. 

“Considering what you did last year to your fellow Housemates, it would be in everyone’s best interest if you stopped learning defensive spells,” was the dry explanation from Professor Snape.

I pouted. “C’mon. You can pair me with the older kids. They’re less likely to get beaten.”

“I think not.”

“But you’re my  _ favorite  _ professor  _ ever _ .”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Miss Potter.

“But—”

“No.”

I groaned. “Damn it.”

“Detention for language, Miss Potter.”

“Wha—can’t you just take away points from Slytherin?”

Processor Snape deadpanned, “No.”

“Man. Time would have been better spent playing tennis with the Whomping Willow,” I grumbled.

“Ah, yes. That. Madam Pomfrey is of the impression you are being bullied in my House. If you go to her with any more broken bones you’ll be cleaning out all of my cauldrons for the rest of the year with no magic.”

I gasped. “That’s so unfair. I have to practice before I can bring in the rest of my bab—I mean the rest of my friends. I’m getting better, too! She only breaks a bone half the time now.”

“A pity.”

I heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. I won’t go to Madam Pomfrey with my broken bones anymore.”

“Good.”

“Can I go to  _ you  _ with my broken bones?”

“Another night of detention, Miss Potter.”

“Awww.”

**_“I know how to mend broken bones,”_ ** Tom sweetly said.

_ “Will you show me how?” _

**_“No.”_ **

_ “Damn it.” _

Tom’s magic curled in a way it made me think he was smiling. 

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you again next week! 
> 
> **Answer:** Chaser. 
> 
> **Question:** What would be your go-to dueling spell? 
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 
> 
>   
>    
> 


	21. Year 2 - 8

“Hello my fellow twins,” I greeted cheerfully. “Care to help me prank Lockhart? It’ll be one to remember.”

George and Fred paused on their way to class, turned to face me fully, and grinned.

“You have—”

“—our attention.”

“We can’t do it until after exams. Hogwarts doesn’t have a replacement for him, so we need to keep him ‘til then,” I warned them sternly. “It’ll be risky business, boys. Borderline illegal.”

“Like last year’s adventure?” Fred asked with both of his eyebrows raised.

“Yep,” I answered, popping the p. “But if you agree, I’ll give you what’s left over.”

“Left over?” George inquired.

I pulled out the bottle of veritaserum. “Veritaserum. I brewed it. I only need a few drops for Lockhart.”

Their eyes bulged and they held out their hands to me. As I shook their hands they exclaimed in synch, “Deal!”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

“Okay, Madam,” I said as my boots crunched into the snow. “Here’s the thing. You break another bone and we can’t play anymore. Neither of us wants that, so let’s try to stick to bruising.”

The Whomping Willow waved her branches as if to say  _ feh _ .

“Ready? Here I come!”

And at long, long last I played against the Whomping Willow  _ without  _ breaking a bone.

She did bruise the ever living hell out of me though. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Several weeks went by. Exams were trying, but not difficult. Everyone in our group felt they had done a decent job of it. Once exams were done and over with that meant that Professor Lockhart was no longer needed at Hogwarts.

Which meant only one thing: it was time to get rid of him.

Oh, it was such a lovely April morning, too. I got up out of bed, a skip in my step as I carried Iris with me down to breakfast. Even Tom was in a good mood—Professor Lockhart had rubbed him the wrong way since the start and it only worsened as the year went on. 

I had a feeling that if Tom had a physical body he would have made Professor Snape and Daphne win their bets on how Lockhart would end his year. He had repeatedly muttered quietly that he knew a curse to fill his lungs with water.

George and Fed had been given the heads up, and early last night I sent a letter to Madam Bones. 

Breakfast was served with toast, bacon, eggs, sausages, apples, and many other yummy things. I piled up my plate with one hand as I fed Iris bits of bacon with the other. My gaze was focused on the High Table where the professors sat.

The twins and I had studied Lockhart’s routine. At exactly nine o’clock he enters with a flourish. By nine o’five he takes his first sip from his morning coffee. 

At eight forty five that morning the twins started up a game of catch over at their table. It was harmless fun, nothing that would warrant a professor from stopping them. They tossed a ball back and forth between one another until they roped in their Gryffindor Chasers, then Harry joined in, then Ron, and then the ball ended up on the Slytherin side so of course they joined in. 

As with every morning, Lockhart strode into the Great Hall, a dazzling smile on full blast as he greeted every swooning witch near him. He ducked underneath the chaotic ball, his cup of coffee clutched tightly in his hands.

I took that opportunity to run up to the professor—feigning to catch the ball—only to trip and  _ oh  _ with a slight of my hand—

When I bumped into Professor Lockhart I used that opportunity to tip a small amount of veritaserum into his coffee. I offered him a glare of annoyance, which he returned with a big fake smile, then excused myself back to my table.

I piled up more pieces of toast to reward myself as I eagerly awaited.

At nine twenty the front doors of the Great Hall swung open and Madam Bones stormed in with several aurors. Professor Dumbledore was at her side, and the two were talking quietly amongst each other.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Professor McGonagall. “What’s going on?”

“Gilderoy Lockhart, you are hereby charged with forced memory alteration, fraud, and a whole host of other things that you can listen to back at the Ministry,” Madam Bones firmly stated when she reached the table. 

“Wha—whatever do you mean?” Lockhart stammered.

“Did you or did you not Obliviate a man named Wilfred Snarlton after he defeated the Yeti then claim it as your own accomplishment?”

“I did!” Professor Lockhart exclaimed loudly, then paled considerably when he realized what he had just said. “I mean—I mean I did—I  _ did _ —I mean—!”

The aurors had pounced upon the golden haired professor and proceeded to drag him away. Lockhart was shouting, “No! I did it! I did it! I Oblivated all of them—no—please—it’s all a lie—everything—oh— _ no _ —!”

“How?” Draco asked me while I casually sipped my tea. “ _ How could you possibly predict that? _ ”

“My dear you should know by now: never underestimate me.”

“Long live the queen,” Theodore muttered. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

_ We did it. Your last recipe worked. _

_ Yours, _

_ Anyo _

I re-read that hurried note several times, my eyes growing bigger by the second.

That could only mean one thing.

Painless and instant transformations. If it was done by the last recipes too—

_ “That means that Lunar’s Orchard can maintain its own brew supply without it dipping into our profit. We could give the potions out for free for its residents.”  _

**_“That would be kind of you,”_ ** Tom observed. 

_ “It would be useful to make them fonder of me and the Orchard,”  _ I explained. 

**_“What are you going to use them for?”_ **

_ “Putting an end to this value of blood bullshit. The Ministry’s going to get crazy overhauled by the time I graduate from Hogwarts.” _

**_“You are on the Light side?”_ ** His tone was warm, but his magic showed discomfort.

_ “I wouldn’t go that far. People on the Light side aren’t comfortable with murder and torture. I just feel we’re too divided. Our resources should be put to advancing our community, not putting down a race. Imagine what we would uncover if we focused our money and efforts on bettering ourselves instead of lobbying for laws that put down a group of people. Imagine what we could  _ learn  _ without the stigma around those who are currently outcast. _

_ “It’s not just about werewolves or Muggleborn.  _

_ “It’s about  _ magic.  _ There are types of magic that aren’t even taught simply because people consider them Dark. Whole branches of magic tossed out the window and deemed illegal because of narrow minded prejudice. _

_ “There’s just—there’s just  _ so  _ much more to this world than hate. I want everyone else to see that, and they won’t until they have no other choice. I have to  _ make  _ them.”  _

Tom quietly listened to my explanation. His magic and voice were thoughtful as he responded with, “ **_There are a few points I would agree on. Hogwarts is severely limited in what it offers to teach students. The unrelenting prejudice against what is considered Dark is unjustified. Magic is magic. There is no evil, or good magic—it only depends on how the wizard uses it. To limit others to such a narrow field is insulting.”_ **

He was silent for a few minutes, but I felt like he had more to say so I waited.

**_“A united community endeavoring to improve themselves… that is an ideal ambition. I would like to see it come true.”_ **

_ “You will.” _

**_“How can you be so certain?”_ **

_ “Because I’ll make it happen, and I’ll make sure you’re with me when it does.” _

**_“What certainty.”_ **

_ “How can I not be? I get inspired everyday when I get to listen to your lovely voice,”  _ I teased.

His magic quivered in amusement.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Our second year at Hogwarts concluded without fuss. The Chamber of Secrets was opened only long enough to greet the basilisk. No students were harmed that year _ — _ except Harry but that was to be expected. The power of Fate and Plot were too strong for him to spend a year at Hogwarts unscathed. 

The House of Slytherin practiced insults every Friday night, and performed one good deed every week. There was still some resentment and stigma against the House _ — _ especially with the older students _ — _ but the professors were noticeably kinder. 

I felt comfortable enough playing tennis with the Whomping Willow, but I didn’t have faith anyone else would be able to keep up. Maybe another year of our group exercising would do the trick. 

I did, however, feel comfortable enough with my knowledge of wards to move on to the next phase of my thieving career.

Targeting pure-blood politicians who  _ weren’t  _ supportive of my werewolf army. 

After all, where would their power be if they had no money left to buy out the press and allies? 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bonus:**

**_“Queen? You are the_ ** **queen** **_of Slytherin?”_ ** Tom inquired, his tone disbelieving.

It was hard not to smirk. I knew my tone must have sounded smug, though. “ _ Yeah. Queen is higher than lord, after all.” _

He ignored me for the rest of the day after that remark.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bonus 2:**

“Professor Snape?” Professor Flitwick called out to the greasy haired potions master. “A curious thing happened in my class today. A Slytherin held the door open for a Hufflepuff and it made the girl faint.”

“Odd! That happened in my class, but no one fainted. The Ravenclaw student was very suspicious, though,” Professor McGonagall added.

“Is something going on?” Professor Sprouts asked with concern. 

Professor Snape’s lips pursed. “Yes. It is Miss Potter’s doing.”

“Whatever do you mean, Severus?” Professor Dumbledore gently inquired. 

“She is… she is requiring that all Slytherins perform one good deed each week,” Professor Snape sighed, rubbing his temple. “They report back to her, and failure to comply results in punishments.”

“Punishments?” echoed Professor Flitwick. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing that can be proven, but undoubtedly done by her,” supplied the dry toned potions professor. 

“What for?” Professor Sprouts was flabbergasted. 

“She said it was to,” Professor Snape sighed again, “ _ redeem  _ them for her… adopted grandfather.”

For reasons the other professors did not understand, Professor Dumbledore started to laugh quite loudly. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Answer** : Somnums. 
> 
> **Question:** What would be your witch/wizard name?
> 
> Reviews are  **love** !


	22. Year 3 - 1

**Beta: Cloudy**

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The Ministry of Magic used the Wizengamot to manage laws. They created, debated, and either refuted or passed the laws used in British Wizarding society. There were fifty members of the Wizengamot. Of those fifty members a little under half held the titles of Lord or Lady. Titles such as these were either passed down by the family, or earned through significant achievement. 

For example, Dumbledore was given the offer to become a Lord after he vanquished the previous Dark Lord.

He declined, choosing a mediator position instead. 

The noble family went as followed:

  1. Lord Abbot (Light)
  2. Lord Buldor (Dark)
  3. Lord Black (Light)
  4. Lord Greengrass (Neutral)
  5. Lord Lestrange (Dark) - His position was vacant due to all members being in Azkaban, and the vote fell with Lord Malfoy. 
  6. Lady Longbottom (Light)
  7. Lord Malfoy (Dark)
  8. Lord Nott (Dark)
  9. Lord Potter (Light) - Position was vacant due to heirs being underage and vote fell with Lord Black (who I learned _did_ attend meetings while Harry and I were at school and in summer all votes fell with Shackelbolt).
  10. Lady Prewet (Neutral)
  11. Lady Rosier (Dark)
  12. Lady Shafiq (Neutral)
  13. Lord Thompson (Neutral)



Of those thirteen noble families on the Wizengamot, only four were Light. Five were Dark, with the rest being neutral. The neutral parties tended to vote closer to the Dark, as the Dark were typically better at bribery than the Light. 

There were a couple of families I immediately had to cross off my list of targets—namely Lord Nott and Lord Malfoy as I was working personally with their heirs. I felt confident over time I could persuade Draco and Theodore to the side closer to me. 

Aside from those thirteen nobles, there were thirty-seven more seats on the Wizengamot that I needed to deal with. They went as so:

  1. Avery (Dark)
  2. Austins (Dark)
  3. Bulstrode (Dark)
  4. Bitterscitch (Neutral)
  5. Belvor (Light)
  6. Bones (Light)
  7. Chang (Neutral)
  8. Carrow (Dark)
  9. Crouch (Neutral)
  10. Dravor (Neutral)
  11. Dustins (Neutral)
  12. Eithermore (Light)
  13. Fawley (Dark)
  14. Flint (Dark)
  15. Fudge (Neutral)
  16. Greatherfall (Neutral)
  17. Harper (Dark)
  18. Heather (Neutral)
  19. Imore (Neutral)
  20. Jacobs (Dark)
  21. Macmillan (Neutral)
  22. Mathews (Neutral)
  23. Natters (Dark)
  24. Parkinson (Dark)
  25. Porter (Neutral)
  26. Quincel (Neutral)
  27. Rowle (Dark)
  28. Reffehuge (Neutral)
  29. Selwyn (Neutral)
  30. Shacklebot (Light)
  31. Travers (Dark)
  32. Trickles (Dark)
  33. Umbridge (Dark) * Was run out of Britain for a few years, returned that year.
  34. Weathersall (Neutral)
  35. Yaxley (Dark)
  36. Yowl (Neutral)
  37. Zefferman (Neutral)



From  _ that  _ list there were fifteen Dark families, a staggering  _ four  _ Light families, and eighteen neutral. 

In total: Twenty two neutral families, eight Light, and twenty Dark. 

From those Dark families, eighteen would be on my list. And as for the neutrals? While they were officially listed as neutral, a fair few of them tended to swing closer to laws that benefited pure-bloods or were prejudicial against other races. Any family that voted on the Dark side more than once and did not have an heir at Hogwarts for me to groom would face my ire.

First up:

_ Avery. _

I’d hit the noble families later when I had more experience breaking into magical homes. The Avery family was middle-class and small. Their leader was Severus Snape’s age—in fact, I believed he went to school when Snape. Arvin Avery was a thin, reedy man with copper hair. He had no partner, nor children. There were rumors he had an illegitimate heir, but nothing concrete. 

He had a home in Hertfordshire on the outskirts of London. Fenrir was kind enough to give me the address. Fenrir made sure he had the address of every Wizard who voted against werewolf rights.

I feigned a tummy ache after dinner so I could leave early. It would be a solid hour and half flight out, after all. I had no floo connections near that area and Kreacher had to remain at home to “tend” to me so Sirius wouldn’t check up on me. 

One of the benefits of being a magic sensor was that it was pretty easy to pick out a magical townhouse squashed between two Muggle ones. 

His home reminded me a bit of Grimmauld’s. Sirius and Remus had spent a lot of weekends trying to get rid of all the dark magic in that home. It had been a project ongoing five plus years and they still weren’t done. Harry and I had only been allowed to visit it twice—once to connect us to the wards, and the second time to make sure Sirius had restored our connection to the wards after he experimented on them. 

_ Wonder what little threats will be in store here? _

I landed at the front door. 

_ “Ready to see me slip past some wards and steal the wealth from my enemies to ultimately make them powerless to stop me later?” _

**_“Ready to watch you try,_ ** ” Tom teased me. 

_ “I’d love to watch  _ you  _ try,”  _ I purred. “ _ You’d make it look effortless.” _

**_“Yes.”_ **

I giggled quietly to myself, a silly smile on my face as I felt Tom’s magic flutter in such a way I knew he was amused too. 

Wards were a bit like umbrellas. From the roof down it projected protection. It was a seamless barrier of magic on all sides… except at the bottom where it connected to the runes that powered it. Runes were typically buried in the ground, but for townhouses like Grimmauld’s—or Avery’s—that was impractical. 

It was more secure to be buried—strength in the ground and whatnot—but more expensive and difficult to do. Nearly impossible if the land surrounding it wasn’t owned by the family either. Home wards only worked with what it recognized as the home. If a rune stone was buried in a neighbor’s yard it would lose all power. Town homes made it straight up impossible. 

Instead, what most townhomes ended up doing was placing the runes directly inside the home; at a sacrifice of power, the runes could be embedded into the walls. 

_ I can feel it. _

The raw magic was like a rain curtain. Reaching out a hand I could feel it against my skin. As soon as I touched it, I could feel its intentions. The ward was meant to alert Avery and aurors if someone destroyed the ward or damaged it. It was also meant to alert Avery if another witch or wizard not keyed into the ward cast a spell on, or inside it. 

_ No defense against Muggles,  _ I mused.

**_“Rosie?”_ ** came the alarmed yet intrigued voice of Tom.  **_“Are you… feeling for the ward?”_ **

_ “Ah… yes?” _

**_“Can you feel magic?”_ **

_ “Y-Yes?”  _

Oh shit. 

To my elated surprise, Tom’s magic jumped in what I could only describe as childish interest.  **_“Really? What’s it like? I’ve read several books on magical sensors but everyone senses it differently. A man kept describing magic as a type of smell he would touch, and another would claim it was like drinking wine.”_ **

_ “Holy smokes, really? That’s so interesting. To be honest I hadn’t found much of anything on magic sensors.” _

**_“If not born one, it requires using what is considered a Dark ritual,”_ ** he explained.  **_“I could never find much about the ritual, but there are some things about those who performed it.”_ **

That… wow, that was really interesting. First of all, how was it considered a Dark ritual? I had done some (extremely rudimentary) studies into ritual magic and I had a feeling that if given enough time I could probably scrape together some type of crude ritual to turn someone into a sensor. It would require messing with their nervous system, but I didn’t see how that would automatically make it  _ Dark _ . Would it?

Intrigued, I asked Tom,  _ “What’s the difference between a normal ritual and something Dark?” _

**_“The ingredients used. Anything involving parts of what is considered a sentient creature would be illegal. Even if it only requires a drop of blood.”_ **

_ “Only  _ ingredients  _ determine what’s a Dark ritual, not intent?” _

**_“Well… there’s a bit more to it. What is used in the ritual—what must be sacrificed—is usually the determining factor. Ingredients imply intent,”_** he responded. **_“Or so the law claims.”_**

_ “How inanely short-sighted.” _

**_“Yes… What does magic feel like to you?”_ ** he asked, his tone a touch eager as if he found a new toy. I couldn’t help but inwardly smile at hearing and feeling his enthusiasm. Tom certainly loved magic, there was no denying his plain affection and admiration for it. Dark, Light, Neutral, none of those stances mattered in his eyes. Magic was magic, and it was something to be adored.

I could relate.

_ “Tangible. It’s a sensation of touch for me. For example, you are a winter night.” _

Tom’s magic quivered in surprise.  **_“Me?”_ **

_ “Yes,”  _ I answered, pulling up a vivid memory to share with him. 

In the forest outside Lunar’s Garden the December snow had blanketed everything. It was fresh, untouched, and pristine as tiny little freckles of white sprinkled from above. The night sky was partly cloudy, but enough of the clouds had broken away to reveal a marvelous twinkling sky and a shining half moon. 

It was cold, terribly so, but the scene was so breath-takingly beautiful it was worth it. I wished I could have transposed the memory onto a picture, it was so lovely. 

**_“Cold,”_** he repeated, but he did not seem to take it as any kind of insult. He viewed the memory with me, catching echoes of my admiration for the scene. **_“I see.”_**

_ “As much as I would love to spend my night talking to you about it, I should get back to what I’m doing.” _ I paused as an idea on how to beak in occurred to me.  _ “Actually, you know, Tom, sometimes pure-bloods can be so incredibly stupid.” _

**_“How so?”_ **

_ “It never occurs to them… that a Muggle  _ could  _ break into their homes. Watch. _ ”

I kneeled at the front door, pulled out a simple lock pick, and jimmied his front door open within a minute. He had no alarm system, and as no magic was used his wards didn’t trigger.

**_“Oh.”_ **

_ “Quite so.” _

With light steps, I made my way through the home until I found a sleeping Avery. I hit him over the head with his own frying pan to keep him out, then I tied him up as any Muggle thief would. For good measure, I got a few drops of sleeping potion in his mouth. No, I was not concerned about the dangers of forcing a concussed man to take sleeping potions. 

_ “That should definitely keep him out. _ ”

And with great ease, I robbed the first off my list. I took one of his Gringotts keys and then off I went.

See, the great thing about goblins was that  _ they didn’t give a shit who opened which vault.  _ If you have the key, you get in. They weren’t going to ask who you are because they genuinely did not care. It was the wizard’s job to keep track of their key, not the goblins. 

Well. Unless it was a noble vault, in which case  _ most  _ of those vaults required a blood donation. I knew Bella’s didn’t at least, since only a key was needed to open her vault canonically. The Black vault required a key tied to the Lord—so only someone with Black blood or recognized as the Black Lord could use the key. I figured Malfoy’s would be the same. 

Once I had enough keys I’d visit their vaults and load up. I planned to have at least ten prior to school starting. If I used the keys right away they’d be tipped off. For as long as possible I’d rather he think a Muggle robbed him. He wouldn’t dare report to his fellow racists how he got tricked by a Muggle, and thus his key would go unreported as missing.

One by one they’d each lose a key… and none would warn the other. How could they ever admit to their fellow racists that they got outwitted by someone they despised? 

_ “Easier than taking candy from a baby.” _

**_“How humiliating for them.”_ **

_ “Oh, just wait until I get to the rest of the Death Eaters—Lord Voldemort’s followers—’cause most of them are dumber than bricks. Although, you did already see me rob one.” _

**_“Joy,”_** Tom muttered bitterly. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

In Lunar’s Orchard I sat outside my garden with Fenrir. Iris played with the butterflies in the garden while Fenrir and I caught up on the things that I couldn’t put down in a letter. 

“Ta-da!” I declared as I proudly held up five stolen Gringott vault keys to Fenrir. The werewolf gave me a roguish grin. 

“‘Ell done, Rosie,” Fenrir praised me. 

“Does this mean I get a hug?” I beamed, hopping up and down in my seat

Fenrir laughed as he lifted me up his arms and I jumped into them. He was big, and warm. Felt like I was being engulfed by a teddy bear. A teddy bear who murdered people. And mauled children.

…

Big teddy tear. 

He patted the top of my head and I stepped back with a big smile. “Thanks, Fenrir. You give the best hugs my friend.”

That made him bark out a laugh as he scratched the back of his head. “Ah, well, than’ yeh lassy. Been given ‘em out a lo’ recently.”

“Oh?”

“The pack. E’rr’yone been in a real good mood. No more pain. We never thawt tah see the day.”

“I’m glad,” I said. “You all have been through so much. You deserve a proper home and to be well cared for.”

“And I know yeh’ll take bes’ care o’ us, Rosie. Yeh’ll a’ways have me if yeh nee’ me.”

“Thank you, friend.”

Fenrir’s smile was big, warm, sweet, and hopeful as he said, “At’s wha’ friends do, yeah?”

“Yes, dear. That’s what friends do.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

My summer was going great. More than great, actually. Not only did I have fantastic success with stealing from Dark families as Muggle would, but Lucius Malfoy was kind enough to give us Dobby. Or, well, Narcissa dropped by for tea and talked about it with Sirius, and Harry mentioned that he did rather like Dobby. Presto: Dobby was attached to Harry.

On a particularly lovely summer day, Harry and I finished our homework and met Sirius in the living room at his request. 

Sirius was clearing his throat an awful lot, a clearly discomforted expression on his face. He shifted his weight on the couch and clutched a book. I could only barely make out a little bit of the title as he moved it around until—

I gasped. “You’re— _ you’re going to give us The Talk? _ ”

**_“I’m temporarily disconnecting from your hearing.”_ **

_ “Take me with you.” _

Harry let out a scandalized gasp, his eyes bulging as he quickly looked to the nearest exit—the front door.

“Now, don’t you even think about it,” Sirius sternly said just as Harry bolted up from his seat. Harry scrambled to make his escape but Sirius just whipped out his wand and locked his legs together. Harry plummeted to the floor in a heap.

Harry whimpered, “Please, no.”

“I don’t like this any more than you two,” our godfather stammered, clearing his throat more. “But we’re going to get through this and never bring it up again.”

Harry continued to whine as Sirius forcibly dragged him back over to the couch. 

“First up: what is sex and how to stay safe with the contraceptive charm—”

Harry started to weep.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

“I have maybe good news,” Remus told us at breakfast on a rainy Sunday. “Professor Dumbledore invited me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Don’t drown,” Harry blurted out.

“He won’t drown,” I assured my twin. “Remus will be smart and only accept a year-long contract so that way the curse won’t bother him.”

“Correct… why would I drown?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“No reason,” we said.

“This is a perfect excuse to finally get you new clothes,” said a happy Sirius. 

“Padfoot—”

“Nope. No buts.”

“ _ Sirius _ .”

“Seriously determined,” Sirius quipped, a glint in his eyes.

“Yeesh. I recognize that gaze. Better submit now or he’ll literally set your wardrobe on fire by the end of the day,” I muttered.

“She’s not wrong.” Sirius smiled and patted me atop the head.

Remus sighed. “Fine. I’ll let you handle the shopping while I tutor the twins.”

Ah yes. The lovely tutoring. 

Specifically in math. Remus had home-schooled us up to Hogwarts. He stopped tutoring us over the summer in all other subjects except math and occasionally potions. The math was to prepare us for Professor Dumbledore’s Alchemy class. Harry and I both expressed a keen interest in attending it, but it was an unspoken rule to know some advanced math prior to attending. Or at least more advanced than what was taught at Hogwarts for a while—Remus always hated the fact that math wasn’t available as a subject to take until third year. 

I couldn’t blame him. Even if it had no practical use in the average witch or wizard’s life, it taught a different way to view things. Namely logically. 

Wizards could do with a bit more logic.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Near the end of August, right on time, we got our Hogwarts letters. Only that time, because Harry and I were taking different classes, we finally got separate Hogwarts letters! What a glorious day. One for the records. I would never forget it when I got to open my very own Hogwarts letter and had it say  _ only  _ my name across it. 

I even let out an emotional sniffle. 

My supply list went as so:

_ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3  _ by Miranda Goshawk

_ Intermediate Transfiguration  _ by Emeric Switch

_ The Monster Book of Monsters  _ by Edwardus Lima

_ Spellman’s Syllabary  _ by Jigger Spellman (for Ancient Runes which was necessary to master before going into Alchemy or ritual-crafting)

_ The Essential Defense Against the Dark Arts  _ by Arsenius Jigger

_ Literacy Lasts a Lifetime  _ by Sophia Howl

There was another letter attached:

_ Dear Miss Potter,  _

_ Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock.  _

_ Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign. A list of books for next year is enclosed.  _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Professor M. McGonagall  _

_ Deputy Headmistress _

“Woo-hoo! Hogsmeade time,” I cheered as I handed my note over to Sirius to sign. 

“Keep in mind what I talked to you two about,” Sirius said as he signed my note then Harry’s. We both cringed in remembrance of that conversation. 

Harry peeked over at my classes with a furrowed brow. “Didn’t you say you were going to take the O.W.L.s for arithmancy and Muggle studies?”

“You don’t need to take the class to take the exam. I’m plenty confident in my knowledge on those two subjects to pass without issue,” I dismissed. “So when are we going to Diagon Alley to get our books?”

“The Weasleys are currently in Egypt. Thought we’d go again with them this year when they got back,” Sirius explained. “It’s come to my attention that a fair few of my other godchildren are using hand-me-down wands. That needs to be remedied.”

“Does Molly know about your plan?” Remus warily asked.

“Why do you think I kept bringing over cookies to her home last year? It took me all year to wear her down.”

Remus sighed just as Hedwig came in with the  _ Daily Prophet _ . On the front page I saw—

_ “ _ Are you kidding me?” I whispered to myself because in big black bold letters I saw:

**ROOKWOOD ESCAPES AZKABAN**

_ Power of fucking Plot swoops in,  _ I thought, stunned.  __

Remus sucked in a sharp intake of air when he read the headlines, drawing attention from both Sirius and Harry. Sirius frowned. The animagus got up and peered over Remus’s shoulder to read. Not wanting to be left out, Harry and I did the same.

_ For the first time in recorded history, a criminal has escaped Azkaban. Augustus Rookwood, an infamous Death Eater who betrayed the Ministry by working as a spy in the Unspeakables department.  _

_ “We are doing all we can to recapture Rookwood,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.” _

The rest of the article went on to detail Rookwood’s description, history, known alias, and so on. 

_ Guess I’ll get to meet a dementor this year. Cool. _

**_“Rather impressive to escape Azkaban,”_ ** Tom commented, his magic smug despite his apathetic tone.

_ “Maybe. He’s supposed to be an Unspeakable so hopefully he won’t be a complete idiot and try to kill me and Harry. If he’s smart, he’d focus on rebuilding his strength then go resurrect his master.” _

Tom’s magic coiled in thought. His opinion on Death Eaters had taken a significant nose dive after he watched me effortlessly steal from them all summer.  **_“I suppose we’ll find out.”_ **

_ “Yep.” _

Sirius clicked his tongue as he finished reading the article. “Welp, you two are grounded for the summer. No going anywhere without Remus  _ and  _ me accompanying you.”

“Fine,” we groaned. 

I would still sneak out to steal stuff, obviously, but it made Sirius happy that we both agreed to stay inside.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

It was time to visit Diagon Alley again, such a lovely place to spend our pocket money. Ron and Harry were quite happy to shop with each other, and Sirius was excited to get the Weasley children wands. Even Percy was all smiles as Sirius escorted them to Ollivander’s. 

I, however, asked if I could shop with my Housemates who  _ coincidentally  _ were shopping on the same day as us. Sirius didn’t like it—his face said it all—but there was little he could do when Remus stepped on his foot, glared at him, and said, “Let her be with her friends, Sirius.”

Remus got a big hug from me for that, and I headed off. I actually had no one to meet. I just wanted to shop on my own without being bothered. I needed more expandable bags for my heists. 

I grabbed those first, along with some new school robes since the boobs were becoming a thing. I also asked Madam Malkin to prepare more sports clothes for me since I needed to wear something more supportive that year if I wanted to play tennis with Madam Willow again. 

“And, uh, any chance those clothes can be enchanted for durability?” I casually asked.

“What kind of durability?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“So… you know the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts—”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

“ _ But— _ ”

“ _ No _ .”

After that I stocked up on supplies at the Apothecary then went over to the bookstore for my school books.

_ I’m excited for fluffy book. Fluffers. Fluffy fluffy. _

Instead of the usual gold-embossed spellbooks in the window of the store there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of  _ The Monster Book of Monsters.  _ Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively.

As I entered _ Flourish and Blotts _ , the manager hurried toward me. 

“Hogwarts?” he said abruptly. “Come to get your new books?” 

“Yes.” 

“Get out of the way,” said the manager impatiently, brushing me aside. He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobbly walking stick, and proceeded toward the door of the  _ Monster Books _ ’ cage.

“Oh, no. Please let me. I know how to handle them,” I quickly said.

The manager whirled around me, eyes wide. “ _ You do?! _ ”

“Yes. If you would please?”

“By all means!”

I eagerly rushed to the cage. In cooing voice, I said, “Who needs a tickle-wickle?”

**_“What?_ ** **”**

The books started to growl at me. I ignored their grumbles and reached in, grabbed one, and immediately started to stroke its spine. It shuddered then let out a happy moan, like a dog whose itch was finally getting scratched. 

“That’s a good book,” I cooed, kissing the cover and nuzzling its soft furry fluffy-ness. “What a good book. Oh, I love you already.”

I clutched at the purring book, beginning to swaddle it like a baby.

“Treat them like a baby,” I told the manager. “To relax them, stroke their spines.”

“You have  _ no  _ idea how helpful that is,” the manager sighed happily as he grabbed a book out and stroked the spine. It relaxed in his hands immediately and the poor manager looked like he was in near tears of relief. “I was going insane stocking these books.”

“The author did not tell you how to tend to them?”

“No! Can you imagine that?”

“How terribly rude of him. The smell of lavender will also soothe them if you would like to burn some incense near their cage.”

The manager grinned. “Thanks, miss. Tell you what, your school books are free of charge.”

“Thank you!”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

There was only one more thing to do before I started my third year at Hogwarts: use the keys to clean out the vaults. 

With ease, I feigned  _ lady cramps  _ and Sirius and Remus immediately ushered me to my room, promised not to bother me  _ at all _ unless asked, and then I asked Kreacher to apparate me to Gringotts.

The goblin that I met snarled at me as he asked for the keys.

I placed fifteen of them in front of him with a big smile on my face.

“These aren’t yours,” the goblin observed and a big, nasty, wicked smile stretched over his face.

“Nope,” I answered. “Do you care?”

“It is the wizard’s responsibility to care for their key.”

“And how much to make you care enough to forget my face?”

The goblin laughed and a deal was struck.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

  1. Learn warding
  2. Learn how to destroy wards
  3. Learn how to get past wards.
  4. Spend summer stealing from Death Eater families. 



**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Young!Tom is a fanboy for magic and you will never convince me otherwise. 
> 
> **Answer:** Rosie Riddlesticks. I like the alliteration and Fiddlesticks is adorable.
> 
> **Question:** What magical creature would you wanna be cuddle buddies with?
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	23. Year 3 - 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Additional trigger warning for suicide.**

“I’ll be joining you two on the train ride down,” quietly muttered the exhausted werewolf. Lunar’s Orchard had been selling their pain-free and instant-transformation potions over the summer so Remus’s monthly issue wasn’t as terrible as before; but it still drained him, and the combination of the two new potions and wolfsbane made him  _ very  _ nauseous the following day. 

Harry stroked Hedwig’s cheek as he asked, “How come, uncle?”

“Azkaban guards,” grunted Remus. 

“They’re going to be at Hogwarts?”

“Yes. A precaution in case you two are targeted by Rookwood,” Remus explained. “Horrid creatures. Make sure you both sit with me on the train, neither of you can deal with them.”

Harry opened the front door to let Hedwig begin her journey to Hogwarts. “It’ll be fine, uncle.”

“Fine is not good enough for you two,” Remus said firmly. “There’s little protection on the train. It’s not like Diagon Alley where there are plenty of witches and wizards around.”

“But they’ll be guards from Azkaban,” said Harry. 

“And who will protect you from  _ them _ ? Come along. Padfoot, we’re leaving.”

“WAIT FOR MY GOODBYE HUGS!” shouted Sirius from upstairs. A moment later our godfather came rushing down the steps and pulled me and Harry into a tight hug. “Take care you two.”

“We will,” we promised.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

We arrived at the train earlier than usual so Remus could take a much-needed nap. While he rested, Harry and I quietly read through our textbook. I needed an O score on N.E.W.T.s to be licensed to own a pet basilisk, I wanted to make extra sure I studied up. Neville arrived maybe thirty minutes later and he slipped into the cart with us.

“Hello,” Neville quietly greeted us as he took a seat beside Harry—I was sitting next to Remus. 

“Hey Neville,” Harry said with an easy smile while I nodded politely to him. 

There wasn’t room for anyone else to join us, sadly, so it was only the four of us in the cart when the train started up. I decided to use Remus as my pillow—he murmured something about  _ not on the full moon, Rosie _ —but didn’t wake up. 

It was easy to fall asleep listening to the merry chatter on the train and feeling it rumble beneath me. My fluffy monster book started to purr in my arms which made it impossible not to just melt in relaxation and close my eyes. Remus was a bona fide heater too which made him the ideal pillow. Even better than Harry!

Tragically, I did wake up when the train came to a screeching halt. The sound jolted me awake.

**_“It’s always a shame when you wake up._ ** _ ” _

_ “What’s that supposed to mean? _

**_“Your dreams are hilarious._ ** _ ” _

_ “Whoa. Tom, can my dreams make you laugh?” _

**_“Sometimes.”_ **

_ “I’ve never heard you laugh! Please do it for me?” _

**_“Go back to sleep._ ** _ ” _

_ “But then I can’t hear it.” _

**_“It’s the only way._ ** _ ” _

_ “Awww. I’ll get you to laugh when I’m awake one day! I bet your laugh makes unicorns come into existence because of how beautiful it is.” _

**_“... Thank you?”_ **

It was dark out the window, rain battered against the train. All the lamps had gone out. I could hear the nervous chatter of the students in the surrounding cabins. I sat up slowly, rubbing at my eyes as I fought the urge to yawn. 

“What’s going on?” asked a nervous Neville. “Think we’ve broken down?”

“Dunno.”

Ice had begun to form on the window. 

_ “Oh. _ ”

I knew there would be dementors coming. I had anticipated feeling something equivalent to depression when they did arrive. The ice on the window foretold their coming, and I prepared myself.

I knew, intellectually, that there was an honest chance I would be forced to relieve those terrible memories. Emotionally, I had to admit I was a little scared. I had done my best to neatly tuck away those memories. I was not ready to deal with them. 

To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be ready to deal with them.

As soon as that ice started to form across the window I clenched my teeth, curled my hands into fists and waited for the worst. 

I had not anticipated feeling anything other than depressed.

Depressed was not how I felt.

Oh, no. Not even close. 

Shivers ran down my arms and back in a soothing manner. It was chilly, as cold as when Tom’s magic first entered me. I could see my breath billow out, and Harry started to shiver beside me—he and Neville had moved closer to me when the lights went out. I reached out a comforting hand to place it on both of the boys’ shoulders. 

No, no.

The stronger the presence of the dementors became, the  _ calmer  _ I felt.

It was a serene peace that soothed aches I didn’t even know I had. They were a refreshing dip in a winter lake that eased the swollen joints of my soul. Cold, bitterly so, but  _ oh  _ so relaxing. The goosebumps were reminiscent of ASMR, really. It was a lull, a sweet, tantalizing lull that beckoned me to sleep. 

It was exactly like that moment when I had ki—

I stopped that thought process there, a new sickening sensation crawling into my stomach as I realized what exactly the dementors felt like. 

Was it a coincidence? 

It—it had to be, right?

Or… no, maybe not.

Not a lot of concrete information was available about dementors. Exactly what caused some people to feel depression, apathy, or relive painful memories couldn’t be explained as anything other than what they are. For thousands of years witches and wizards had been trying to recreate the effect dementors had as spells, potions, or protection wards, but none have succeeded.

There was a fundamental difference in what the dementors were, and what people perceived them to be.

Research about them was considered Dark and highly regulated. Even the Black library had only a single chapter about them in their Dark books. 

I had not placed much interest in the dementors previously, but now—

_ Is the aura not one of depression… but rather one of death, or near death? _

For most death was a terrifying thing and it could likely trigger traumatic memories, or regrets they have. Death was hard to face, and the fear of the unknown was even harder to deal with.

What if the dementors were not depression demons, but an iteration of death itself?

Then for someone like myself who did not—

_ Dumbledore. _

Dumbledore, despite his own traumas, did not fear death. He did not struggle with dementors, but still held them in disdain.

Tom Riddle and Voldemort most  _ definitely  _ feared death, yet dementors did not bother them. 

So then, perhaps not iterations of death.

But I could not think of anything special about me aside from reincarnation.

Or…

_ Maybe it’s not a matter of how they view death… but  _ how  _ one has already died. _

If reincarnation was a thing, then everyone was a reincarnation of something. I simply retained my memories, and consequently I remembered my death and how it affected me. I remembered that exact moment of death, and it was that moment that I felt when near dementors.

That moment of utter peace and freedom.

_ Maybe they are related to death somehow. Those who do not remember their deaths can only see the dementors from one life’s perspective… and those that do remember their deaths…  _

_ Or… maybe…  _

What if Dementors fed on happy thoughts to encourage departed souls to move on? Iterations of death, but more specifically the reapers who severed earthly connections. Those who can accept death and let go of their memories find peace with them… and those who have no connections to sever in the first place would be unbothered. 

Tom Riddle wasn’t afraid of losing happy memories, he was afraid of the unknown and powerless specter known as Death. That would explain the lack of depression felt from the Dementors (or why Voldemort could be around them without a Patronus). 

Dumbledore had things he didn’t want to forget, but he was able to accept his death whenever.

Then there was me. Someone who… 

It would require further thought. Indeed, my academic mind was intrigued by dementors. I had a thirst to sate the curiosity. I would need to find a dementor and begin testing the exposures. For the moment, at least—

_ “This is nice, _ ”

**_“Odd.”_ **

_ “What is?” _

**_“I had encountered a dementor previously. They were cold, but I had no sense of peace like you’re currently feeling, nor the common symptoms of depression.”_ **

_ “When did you meet a dementor?” _

**_“I’ve never heard about anyone_ ** **enjoying** **_the presence of a dementor,_ ** ” Tom observed, ignoring my question. 

_ I have to say I’m really interested in dementors now. Will this feeling go away with prolonged exposure?  _

I mentally made some adjustments to my bucket list. 

The train was dead silent. Our compartment door slowly slid open and a skeletal hand with long bony fingers poked in. 

The dementor wore long black tattered robes. It was similar to the movie, but the movie did not convey how dark it was. The robes were blacker than the darkest night and radiated a type of shadowy aura. Its hood was pulled over its face as it looked around the cabin.

“I shall name you Booboo,” I whispered to the dementor who turned its head to me. “We shall be the best of friends, Booboo.”

Booboo the dementor did not react in any way, but tragically Neville and Harry fainted which woke Remus who bellowed out, “ _ EXPECTO PATRONUM! _ ”

“Fare thee well my lovely Booboo.” 

_ “I’m gonna find that dementor and make him my best friend.” _

**_“I wish I could say I was surprised.”_ **

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Remus took Neville and Harry to see Madam Pomfrey while I was told to head to the welcome feast. I took my spot at the Slytherin table in between Daphne and Theodore. The sorting wasn’t as long as last year’s, and when it was over Professor Dumbledore stood up to make his usual speech.

Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. 

“Welcome!” said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his long silver beard. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast.”

The talk completely died down by the end of his opening. 

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”

He paused.

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continued, “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks,” he added blandly, and my babeh snakes glanced at one another. 

“It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors,” he said.

“On a happier note,” he continued, “I am pleased to welcome three new teachers to our ranks this year. “First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“That’s my uncle,  _ clap _ ,” I ordered and the Slytherin table clapped so loudly the Gryffindor table felt instantly challenged and they started hollering, stomping, and clapping to be louder than us.

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued as the applause for Remus died away. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

Harry stood up and started the clapping war again, but Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw felt the need to challenge them. 

_ Hm. You know, wasn’t Hagrid supposed to be exonerated before becoming a teacher?  _

It was common knowledge in the Slytherin House that I had access to the Chamber of Secrets and met a basilisk. I had told Dumbledore, and Harry… Harry probably told his friends, so it was a good bet that Gryffindor knew the truth. 

_ I suppose Professor Dumbledore could have pressed for Hagrid’s name to be cleared after I told him about the Chamber. But he never asked me to prove it.  _

I hadn’t followed the politics pertaining to it, but it wouldn’t be hard to look up the past Wizengamot debates. 

_ Do I care enough to research it? Nope.  _

“And our last new appointment is Professor Torte who will be teaching our new Language class. Professor Torte is fluent in over thirteen different languages and will be able to provide instruction for any chosen language from the dead Latin to the ever-popular French.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

First class of the day for me was the new Language class. Professor Torte was young, bubbly, and quite the eye candy. She had wild curly black hair, dark skin, and big almond eyes. She seemed very fond of headbands. Her classroom was near transfiguration, so us poor Slytherins had to trek up three flights of stairs to reach her. 

“A very good morning to you all,” said Professor Torte as the third year Slytherins came into the room. “I understand everyone here wants to learn Latin?”

“Fluently,” I agreed.

“It'll be a walk in the park under my tutelage,” she said confidently. “Let us begin, shall we?”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

“C’mon, now, get a move on!” he called as the class approached. “Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!”

Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

“Everyone gather ’round the fence here!” he called. “That’s it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books—”

I had already pulled out my fluffy flufferkins the fluff and started to stroke its spine. A fair few of the other students were doing the same—the manager at the bookstore had likely told everyone who had purchased it how to handle it. 

Everyone had their books opened within a minute. 

“Right. So—so yeh’ve got yer books an’—an’—now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I’ll go an’ get ’em. Hang on—.”

He headed away from us into the forest and out of sight.

As he strode away, I quietly told my classmates, “Everyone better be on their top behavior. If I wanna take that basilisk from the chambers home with me I need an O in my N.E.W.T.s for this class. Anyone disrupting it will find their elbows swapped with their knees.”

A few of the students shuddered. Harry rolled his eyes at me.

“Oooooooh!” squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward us was a dazzling herd of hippogriffs. 

“Gee up, there!” he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. “Beau’iful, aren’ they?”

**_“Hippogriffs for a first lesson?”_ ** Tom was intrigued.  **_“My third year we weren’t even allowed to_ ** **see** **_the animals until after Christmas.”_ **

_ “Gotta compensate somehow for Lord Voldemort’s temper tantrum on our DADA post.” _

**_“Mm-hmm._ ** ”

“So,” said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, “if yeh wan’ ter come a bit nearer—”

I eagerly moved closer.

“Now, firs’ thing yeh gotta know abou’ hippogriffs is, they’re proud,” said Hagrid. “Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don’t never insult one, ’cause it might be the last thing yeh do. Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs’ move. It’s polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an’ yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh’re allowed ter touch him. If he doesn’ bow, then get away from him sharpish, ’cause those talons hurt. Right—who wants ter go first?”

“I will!” I volunteered enthusiastically. 

**_“Do you have a death wish?_ ** _ ” _

_ “Maybe a little one.” _

I climbed over the fence as Hagrid praised me. “Right then—let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak.”

Hagrid untied one of the chains. He pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar.

“Easy, now, Rosie,” said Hagrid quietly. “Yeh’ve got eye contact, now try not ter blink. Hippogriffs don’ trust yeh if yeh blink too much.”

My eyes stung as I struggled not to blink them. 

Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and fixed a mild glare at me.

“Tha’s it,” said Hagrid. “Tha’s it, Rosie. Go ahead and bow now.”

I bowed. 

The hippogriff did not respond, its gaze narrowing further. 

“Ah,” said Hagrid, sounding worried. “Okay—back away—easy, easy—” 

As I took my first step back the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow. 

“Well done, Rosie!” said an ecstatic Hagrid. “Right then! Yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!”

A splitting grin broke over my face as I eagerly—not too quickly as to not startle Buckbeak—rushed forward. Buckbeak lowered his head enough for me to pat his beak.

“I love you already,” I whispered.

The hippogriff closed its eyes very similar to what Iris did when I pet her favorite spot. 

“Righ’ then, Rosie,” said Hagrid. “I reckon he might’ let yeh ride him!”

“Yay!”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

After Hagrid’s class was Slytherin’s DADA lesson with Remus. 

“Good afternoon,” Remus said once everyone had entered the classroom. “Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today’s will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands.”

There was a murmur of pleasant surprise among my babeh snakes as they did so. 

“Right then,” said Remus, when everyone was ready. “If you’d follow me.”

He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, then down a second corridor and stopped right outside the staffroom door.

“Inside, please,” said Remus, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty.

“Now, then,” said Remus, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Remus went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

“Nothing to worry about,” said Remus calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. “There’s a boggart in there.”

The babeh snakes were intrigued. 

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” explained Remus. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks—I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. “So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?”

Tracey Davis put her hand up.

“Miss Davis?”

“A shapeshifter that turns into your worst fear,” supplied Tracey. 

“Well said. So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. This means that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Mr. Malfoy, care to venture a guess on that advantage?”

“There’s too many of us for it to decide which form to take?” Draco guessed. 

“Exactly. It’s always best to have company when you’re dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake—tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

“We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please:  _ Riddikulus _ !”

“ _ Riddikulus _ !” said the class together.

“Now, who will volunteer to tackle the boggart first?”

Daphne stepped up. “I will.”

“Excellent. Do you have an idea what your fear is?”

“Yes. Spiders.”

“And a joke to turn it into?”

“Yes. Theodore’s life.”

The Slytherins snapped at Daphne’s easy insult. Theodore snarked, “Take a closer look in the mirror, Daphne.”

Remus cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at Daphne who sighed and said, “I have a  _ proper  _ image in mind for the spider.”

“Very good, then why don’t we all form a single file line and each of us takes a turn at the boggart. When you’re ready, I’ll open the door.”

I had moved to second, but Remus gave me a look which made me think I ought to go last. Indeed, Remus had timed it in such a way—making other students go more than once—so that way when it was my turn to go class was over.

“Miss Potter, stay behind for a moment,” Remus advised and I nodded at my friends to go on ahead without me. 

“Yes Professor Lupin?” I folded my hands in front of me. He may be my uncle, but I would respect his authority at school as I would most of the other professors.

“I thought it might be best if you saw your boggart in private… in case it turned into He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“That’s fair,” I agreed. “I honestly have no clue what my fear is. Should be fun!”

Remus smiled thinly. I readied my wand as Remus opened the cabinet. The boggart began to whirl into many shapes and forms. After ten seconds it morphed into me.

Or, well, a dead-eyed version of me. 

I stared at the boggart-me in confusion. Perplexed as to what it meant, I hesitated to use the spell. 

Then it pulled out a knife, slid it along my wrists, and said in a monotone voice, “What’s the point?”

The blood pooled out of the slit wrist, falling to the floor in an almost slow motion. It raised the knife to its neck. 

I froze, cold shock slamming into me as the echo of my death teetered in my mind. It was locked deep in my castle, further than even the Horcrux, so Tom could not see it, but  _ I  _ could. My hand curled tightly around my wand while my mind went blank. 

_ The scalpel was sharp, it didn’t even hurt gliding across the skin. There was a pause before the blood came, as if the skin had not yet realized it had been sliced open. The summer air was hot and sticky, and the sound of the chirping birds in the forest were loud. All I could hear were the birds singing and the harsh pounding of my heartbeat in my head.  _

_ Slicing the arteries would make it quick. I got two easy cuts, then I lost the strength in my fingers as a wave of dizziness made me sway.  _

_ There, in that forest, where no one would find me, I greeted death like a dear, dear friend.  _

How did I make that funny?

Prickly anxiety poked at my heart and stomach, shame and guilt quickly accompanied it. I did not dare look at Remus, did not dear to see the look in his eyes—the  _ pity  _ that I knew would be there—

Remus stepped in between me and the boggart. It whirled into a moon and he banished it into a balloon that went flying back to the closet. 

Oppressively dead silence drowned everything in the room. I could only hear the sound of my heart hammering in my chest as sickly chills crawled up and down my spine. 

Remus was kind as he turned to me and pulled me in for a tight hug. His voice was mild, showing no overwhelming concern or judgment,  _ but I knew better _ . Oh, yes,  _ I knew better _ . From the ever so slight tremble in his arms as he held me, to the way I could hear his heart quickening, and how firm his grip was around me as if he was concerned what woud happen if he let go of me. 

He was afraid.

Shame, that horrible nauseating  _ burn _ seared itself in my stomach. White, hot, and terrible it made me tremble.

“Rosie,” came Remus’s gentle tone. “It’ll be okay. If you want to talk, I’m here.”

The unspoken question of  _ why  _ hung on his lips. 

His kindness only made me feel worse. 

How did I explain to him the life I had before? The way I saw the world then was nothing like I saw it as Rosie. In that life, I only saw my days in a wash of grays. Mother’s bitter tone was the only sound that clung to me like a toxic fog. The expectations since childhood, and the unexplained fears I struggled with on a day-to-day basis. 

_ Why are you so afraid of the ocean? _

I didn’t know. 

_ Why are you so afraid of being in a crowd? _

I didn’t know.

_ Why are you so afraid of fire? _

I didn’t know.

_ Why are you so afraid? _

I didn’t know.

Terror and apathy were the only things I could recognize, and even then the horror ebbed away until there was only the gray. Only the monotone; the listlessness; the lack of motivation. Food was ash, water hurt, and everyone was muffled.

Death did not scare me, and so it became the preferred option. 

_ I don’t want to go back to that life. I don’t want to lose the colors.  _

I had no words for him. It took everything— _ everything _ —I had to force my lips to turn up into a fake smile I had practiced so well for two lifetimes. I looked up at him, stretching that smile wider and used what little strength I had to pull back from him. He resisted, but let me go.

I stepped back.

I turned away.

And I ran. 

He tried to stop me, but I avoided his grasp and broke out into a sprint. 

**_“You are… afraid of suicide?”_ **

I did not answer him right away. I fled all the way to the dungeons, to my room, then I locked the door tightly behind me. I placed a hand over my heart and focused on feeling its beat.

_ One-two. One-two. One-two. _

My gaze slowly slid down to my wrists, pristine and devoid of the lethal cuts. 

Tom’s magic was static. He held no pity for me, nor did he feel alarmed on my behalf. There was only detached curiosity. A clinical question made it easier to give a blasé answer.

“I am afraid of losing my emotions,” I whispered quietly to the room. 

There.

That fear. 

It was the first time I had ever given it a voice. I had no one previously, and it felt like I could not dare speak of what I had done. How dare I? How dare I take my life when others had theirs forcibly taken?

How dare I speak of such things when I had born witnessed to Lily, a woman I wished to God I had a chance to experience her as my mother more, was murdered to protect me? 

How dare I…?

_ How could I? _

Iris yawned from her bed. I stumbled over to my own bed where she slithered up to me, curling in my lap and nuzzling at my neck. I held her tightly, kissing the tip of her nose. 

Tom did not offer judgment, I could feel only cold curiosity in his magic. He did not understand how anyone would willingly go to death. Such a subject would have been even more taboo in his time period than my own, so it was unlikely it was even discussed. 

That made it easier. There was no kindness or pity from him that would make me feel ashamed. I asked him instead, “What’s the point of living if you can’t be happy?”

**_“Happiness is fluid. It comes and goes,_ ** ” Tom’s voice was fakely kind. His magic told me he was dismissive, he did not view that as a genuine option. 

“ _ Are  _ you  _ happy? _ ”

His magic stilled.

_ “You’ve felt  _ me  _ happy. Have  _ you _ felt it?” _

**_“Yes,_ ** **”** Tom lied. His magic quivered in quiet alarm. 

_ “Once you’ve tasted it, letting go is that much worse. Knowing about the high and losing it forever—no. Death is better. _ ”

**_“You can’t mean that. Death is the end. You’ve no way of knowing you’ll_ ** **never** **_be happy again in life.”_ **

_ “So it is better to suffer through it in hopes that one day you  _ will  _ be happy?” _

**_“Yes._ ** _ ” _

_ “Tom Riddle, you have far more strength than I ever could.” _

Tom’s magic twitched.  **_“Strength is different for everyone, Rosie._ ** ”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

  1. What am I actually afraid of? 
  2. What do dementors ACTUALLY feel like? I need to know. 



**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom is unaffected by dementors because he has no happy memories to give. 
> 
> Rosie is calmed by dementors because of spoilers spoilers spoilers. 
> 
> **Answer:** Griffin / Gryphon. Get the soft feathers  _ and  _ fur  _ AND  _ it can purr like a cat. Best of all the worlds. 
> 
> **Question:** How would you use Riddikulus on your boggart?
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	24. Year 3 - 3

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

When I pondered my life prior it left a bitter taste in my mouth. The woman who raised me was not someone I could claim ever loved me. Everything she did, she did with a purpose in mind and I was no exception. If there was a time in my childhood that was different, it was so long ago I could not remember.

Clothes were laid out for me the previous night. I woke up no later than five every morning. I always arrived at school early to review work, attend a meeting for one of the clubs she chose—Student Council, Debate, Robotics—then go to school. Grades could not slip below a certain average without severe punishment. After school, it was either tutoring or clubs until it got dark outside. A cold dinner would be waiting for me as long as I was a "good" child. If the dinner was in the trash or still there in the morning she'd force me to eat before I could go to school.

Even when I left for college the grip never released. She didn't need to be there physically to control me.

It… lessened over time, or perhaps it'd be more accurate to say I stopped caring. A part of me wondered if I stopped entirely would she end me herself?

I never found out, too cowardly to try. All I wanted was my own freedom, my own _life._

Seeing how drastically different Lily and James treated me compared to _her_ was the greatest eye-opener. Had it been anyone else, had it been _any_ less of a loving environment I wasn't sure I would have ever found the nerve to try living again.

But it was them, and I was loved. Truly, and sincerely loved.

Everything I did was by _my_ action. _I_ got to choose. _I_ got to make the mistakes.

I could be whatever I wanted to be.

To lose that appreciation and revert to that hollowed life was something I hadn't even dwelled on. Confronting that fear was being thrown into a tub of ice. I didn't know how to handle it, least of all I _especially_ didn't know how to talk to anyone about it. I couldn't admit about my past life, but constructing a convincing lie about something so sensitive to me would be difficult.

I didn't know what to do.

It wasn't something to be rushed, frantically scrambling for a resolution could make things worse.

No. The smart choice would be to let the emotions die down and reexamine it with a level head.

Hopefully Remus wouldn't pressure me.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

To get my mind off depressing stuff, I decided to move on to another one of my goals.

Spellcrafting!

" _Now that I've had proper studies for a couple of years I think I'm ready to begin my misadventures into spellcrafting,"_ I thought as I took a seat at my desk in my room.

" _ **Spellcrafting?"**_ Tom was intrigued. " _ **What do you have in mind?"**_

" _I first want to make flash-bang spell so I don't have to waste my time making the grenades,"_ I told him. " _Should be fun!"_

" _ **Flash-bang?"**_

" _Ooo, you haven't seen one before?"_

" _ **The term is not familiar. I would assume it creates a flash with a loud noise?"**_

" _Yes. The Muggles invented it in… 1970? I think. Here, let me show you. Brace your eyes and ears for the memory."_

When Tom said he was ready I showed him several memories of me using one.

" _ **That would be… useful in a fight."**_

" _Right? They're a pain in the butt to carry around though."_

" _ **How do they work?"**_

" _Familiar with magnesium and ammonium nitrate?"_

" _ **Not terribly."**_

" _Hmmm… this'll take a bit of time. Let me get in a comfortable position."_

I slipped into my mind palace to meet with Tom at the cottage made for him. He had already taken his first misadventure into the forest, but he soon learned that if he kept walking forward he'd only end up back at the cottage. There was a trick to the maze, it would be difficult to uncover without help. I wouldn't give him any clues unless he asked _really_ nicely, and Tom was too prideful for that.

I didn't feel a sense of urgency from him, rather he was taking his time to examine and prod at my mind.

The handsome wizard greeted me with a polite nod and I conjured up a work table.

"Let's put a few together ourselves," I told him. "Watch closely, and I'll explain the process as best I can."

From my memories, I pulled out the supplies to make one and I walked Tom through it step by step. He was a lovely student. He listened patiently to everything I said, asked insightful questions, and showed polite eagerness to try and make one of his own.

By the end of the lesson he nodded to himself and said, "I could create a spell for this."

"Really?" I asked, impressed and intrigued.

"Spellcrafting has been a hobby of mine since third year," he admitted to me.

Not terribly surprising. Someone had to make the Dark Mark spell and whatever spell that gave the Death Eaters tattoos. I privately wondered what other spells he had invented that were not mentioned in the narration.

Then I frowned, my Slytherin senses tingling. "Would you… _teach_ me the spell after you make it?"

"Maybe," he said, slowly smiling. "If I like you enough."

"Oh, jeeze, that's gonna be a hard bar to reach."

He chuckled softly. "Don't sell yourself so short. Your mind is an interesting and comfortable place."

"Well. I like _you_ well enough."

"Thank you," he politely returned. "Were there other ideas you had in mind to turn into spells?"

"Quite a bit, actually! How familiar are you with the concepts of lasers?"

I didn't eat dinner or sleep that night, but that was fine. The jumbled anxiety I had from lessons earlier melted away the longer I talked with Tom. I didn't want to dwell on that boggart, nor Remus's reaction anymore than I wanted to listen to Lily dying again.

I still didn't know what to do with that mess of emotions. I had only ever known how to focus on other things until the pain dulled enough to forget about it. I knew forgetting wasn't an option—especially if that thing was a boggart of mine—but I couldn't slap together a half-baked solution.

Teaching Tom about the flash-bang grenade and debating over spellcraft theory was fun and interesting. We were able to stay up all night discussing it. I could genuinely say that I had… I had a good night, despite the rough day.

And from the way his magic coiled gently around mine as the night went on, I had a funny feeling he had a good night, too.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Life went on at Hogwarts. Remus did try to catch me a couple of times after class but I fled before he could finish uttering my name.

It _really_ wasn't something I wanted to talk about—especially with someone I loved. If I ever saw pity in their eyes—

I think that would hurt worse than facing a hundred boggarts.

Remus did seem to catch on rather quickly that I was _not_ going to discuss it. I was grateful he didn't pressure me, nor did he tell Sirius—if he had told Sirius I _know_ my godfather would have written to me about it ASAP.

Eventually when he handed back graded papers he slipped a folded note atop my essay.

Fighting back the urge to throw it out, with shaky hands I unfolded it to read:

_I will always be here for you. Whenever you're ready, I would love to listen._

_With love,_

_Remus_

The note was carefully folded back up and pressed between the pages of a favored book I liked to reread.

I appreciated what he was trying to do—truly, I did—but I—I—couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to have that discussion with someone so kind and loving. I wasn't ready to see the expressions he'd make, or listen to his reactions. I didn't want him to hold me out of pity or fear that I would do something drastic. I just…

I just wasn't ready for _any_ of that.

So I put that whole incident behind me. I smiled at Remus at the end of class, gave him a hug—he hugged tight enough I had trouble breathing—and hurriedly moved on.

Besides, I had much more interesting (non-emotionally draining) things to do.

Like playing tennis with the Whomping Willow who was so excited to see she actually greeted me with an adorable wave. After a week of some nice one and one time with the darling Willow, I decided it was time for our group to start including tennis in our routine.

On a warm September morning, I made everyone—Daphne, Tracey, Millie, Theodore, Vincent, Gregory, Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione—head on out to the Whomping Willow.

"Must we really?" Hermione asked, dubious of what we were about to do. She was holding her racket nervously.

"Willow assured me that she won't break any bones," I tried to reassure the nervous students. "It's excellent reflex training. You'll see a noticeable difference in a month, I promise. Plus she's really looking forward to trying to juggle all of us."

"They _do_ say the best training for a seeker is reflex training," Harry muttered blithely as he eyed the Whomping Willow as if she were a dangerous animal about to bite.

"I suppose _one_ morning to try it out won't hurt," Daphne tentatively put in.

"That's the spirit. All of you watch me for a few minutes before joining in. Keep an eye on your own ball," I said. "Good morning Madame Willow!"

The Whomping Willow greeted me with her usual taunt.

I then tossed the ball up in the air and hit it with my racket. Our game was on. Harry was the second one to join us, but the Whomping Willow reflected his ball right in his stomach so he crumpled to the ground.

"Pain is gain! Press on my students."

With great reluctance, one by one they joined in.

Thankfully, she was true to her word in the sense that no one got a broken bone.

But golly gosh were they bruised and sore.

On the bright side, Daphne's inner spite made her spit fury at the Willow and she cried out at it, "I WILL BURN YOU AFTER I HAVE CLAIMED VICTORY YOU MONSTER!"

Never, ever, underestimate the power of Daphne Greengrass's spite.

The only ones who would return to tennis training with me for the rest of the year were Harry, Neville, Draco, Theodore, and Daphne. The rest were quite happy to stick to running.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

" _What do you think of this?"_ I asked Tom. I was seated at my desk in my room. I had a nice day of solo-tennis with Willow in the morning (the others only came once a week), classes, then studying with the babeh snakes. Now I was working on crafting a spell for the flash-bang. I had made some decent progress.

I wasn't a genius when it came to the theory side of it. I found that I did best when I had a broad scope of what I needed to do then went with it.

To craft a spell one needed to derive the name for it, then came the wand motion which was usually the hardest part. Due to my sensitivity to magic, the wand motion was the easiest part for me. I could feel the subtle changes to my magic and could correct the motion I needed.

There weren't a lot of motions to choose from, after all. Intent was the most powerful force behind using magic. Naming the spell gave it a life of its own, giving it motion brought that life into reality.

Over time and use, a witch's magic could learn to call upon that spell without needing to invoke its name or use a motion for it. I had the advantage in that department, as well.

The only thing left required to create a spell was understanding of how it affected the world. That was normally where arithmancy came into play—understanding the physics and whatnot. I knew exactly what needed to be done to create the flash-bang from a molecular level, so I had that part covered. I wasn't sure what the rules were for transfiguration, or how other spells came to be, but that was the current knowledge taught.

I couldn't test it in my room—I would save that for the Room of Requirement later—but I had a good idea on what the spell name would be.

Semi good, at least.

I was positive about the wand motion, at least.

" _ **Not a bad attempt, but not correct.**_ "

" _What's wrong with Scintillo Tonitruum?"_

" _ **Tonitruum is good. I thought of Tonitruum as well. Scintillo will not work. At best you'll get a glimmer."**_

I chewed on the inside of my cheeks. " _Should I use a different language than Latin?"_

" _ **Combining languages in spellcrafting can make for some powerful spells, but they are unstable. Misuse or miscasting them has a greater chance of killing you.**_ "

" _Okay… I went with something big for the sound like thunder, and if scintillo won't work, then maybe… clarus?"_

" _ **Closer.**_ "

" _Leoht?"_

" _ **Lucidus is what I chose.**_ "

" _Then that's probably right. Thanks, Tom."_

" _ **You are welcome, Rosie. While I have your attention, I wanted to express my gratitude. I appreciate that you set up a laboratory in my cabin for me to spellcraft on my own.**_ "

" _A little odd, but I've got plenty of self-managing areas that my subconscious takes care of. I'll do my best to give you some privacy."_

" _ **I am grateful.**_ "

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

The first Hogsmeade weekend was at the end of October. Everyone was chattering about it excitedly, and the closer it approached the happier everyone became. Harry and I had plenty of pocket money to properly explore Hogsmeade—and reluctant knowledge of contraceptive charms—thanks to Sirius.

Indeed, I would explore some shops, but that was not my goal for Hogsmeade.

Nope. It was time to put some serious effort into crossing off the dementor related stuff on the bucket list.

On that Halloween day, I dressed extra warmly and made sure Harry was okay to watch Iris for part of the Hogsmeade trip. I didn't want to subject Iris to the dementors unless I needed to. She was cold-blooded. Even if they did not give her depression, they could very well freeze her. I had a special sweater made for her—decently long, and her wings poked through the sleeves—to help with the oncoming weather, but it wouldn't be enough against dementors. Better she stayed with Harry.

The third year students boarded the carriages then made the journey to Hogsmeade with jolly cheer.

Hogsmeade was like Diagon Alley on steroids. Times ten. No, maybe times a hundred.

The crisp autumn air had that hint of pumpkin spice from all the yummy baked goods. There was a constant chatter in the background, similar to what it'd be like at a fair or festival. The shop windows were filled with odd and interesting things.

There was a chill in the air that did not seem natural—likely from the dementors that mingled among the edge. We had passed a group of them on the way to Hogsmeade, but tragically Booboo was not among them.

I would not mistake Booboo for any other dementor. Booboo's cloak was a magnificent shade of blackness, and all the other cloaks paled in comparison. The more dementors I saw and compared to Booboo the more I realized how special Booboo really was.

" _ **You're a bit mad aren't you?"**_

" _You're uh—you're um—Tom, what would you call a man whore in your time?"_

" _ **Excuse me?!**_ "

" _I thought you would be more offended if I used man whore since it's using the word whore—"_

" _ **Stop saying that word, do you have no decency?"**_

" _It's not that bad of a word nowadays. So what would_ you _call a man whore?"_

With great reluctance, Tom muttered, " _ **A cake-eater."**_

" _You're a cake-eater!"_

" _ **Why are you like this?**_ "

" _It was the first retort to come to mind. I'd find it hard to believe that you_ didn't _have a fan club or something similar when attending Hogwarts. You're handsome, smart, cunning, and have a lovely manner."_

" _ **I did not have a…**_ **fan club."**

" _Really?"_ That genuinely surprised me. " _I would have started one for you."_

His magic rippled in surprise. " _ **Thank you?"**_

" _This is completely mind-blowing, though. You didn't have a whole bunch of witches and wizards confessing their love to you on Valentine's Day?"_

" _ **Those are quite different from a**_ **fan club** _ **."**_

" _Oh so you did! How many confessions did you get on average, if I may ask?"_

" _ **I don't know. I didn't keep track."**_

" _Did you accept any of them?"_

" _ **No.**_ "

" _Wha—why not?"_

This magic fluctuated, splitting as if he was torn on answering the question honestly or not. His tone reflected hesitation, and he almost stumbled over his words as he responded with, " _ **I have no interest.**_ "

 _Have?_ I thought privately. _Present tense…? I wonder—_

" _Tom, ever heard of the term asexual?"_

" _ **When an organism reproduces with itself?"**_ Tom questioned in confusion. I hadn't talked much about it during the biology crash courses, but I was glad he at least remembered the scientific terminology.

" _There's that, and there's also another meaning for the word. It means lack of sexual attraction to others."_

" _ **I see. You are asking if I am asexual?**_ "

" _You don't have to answer. It was only a curiosity."_

" _ **Going by that definition then I suppose I would fall under that category. I have not encountered anyone that urged me to court them.**_ "

_Does that include aromantic?_

I didn't voice that. That felt too private to ask considering he didn't think of me as a friend.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I purchased candy and thought over what he said. It made sense in a lot of ways. Tom had literally no healthy relationship in his life, and no easy concept of love. He was not incapable of love, he simply lacked the experience to understand it. Given his ambition and drive at Hogwarts it would not surprise that he put "love" in the furthest corner of his mind.

 _But_ knowing how much of a manipulator he was—

Actually Tom _really_ was a good manipulator. Way better than what I anticipated. I had to privately admit if I was not aware of his true feelings through sensing his magic I might have fallen under his charms. He had adjusted himself from distant politeness to someone more snarky after only studying me for a little bit. He changed himself to better woo me, and he did it so smoothly it felt as natural as the sun rising—

Returning to the point.

Because of how excellent of a manipulator he was I would not believe for a second that Tom Riddle didn't use his handsome face and sweet tones to seduce others to his side.

He may not have felt anything for them, but I'd eat a shoe if Tom Riddle didn't take advantage of those that confessed to him.

 _Wouldn't at least_ one _of them try to snag him into courtship?_

Surely at least one witch or wizard was able to bargain a date out of Tom Riddle. Or was he able to masterfully persuade them out of it?

" _I guess I gotta say I'm surprised you never courted someone before,_ " I commented honestly, using his term _courting_ instead of _dating._

" _ **At my time at Hogwarts to court someone meant to consider marriage. I understand the… modern times allow witches and wizards to court without serious intent behind it, but doing such a thing when I was at Hogwarts was considered highly ill-mannered and scandalous. It would have been more trouble than it was worth.**_ "

" _Oh. And if you went to Hogwarts now? Would you want to court someone?"_

" _ **I don't know.**_ _**You're the only witch I've spoken to in this time period."**_

" _Ah. Fair point. Sorry to hog you all to myself."_

" _ **It's fine. I'm learning a lot.**_ "

" _I don't know if I say this often enough, Tom, but I sincerely enjoy your company."_

" _ **I can feel that. Thank you, Rosie.**_ "

" _What are friends for?"_

" _ **Are we friends now?**_ "

" _In my heart we are._ "

Tom did not verbally respond, but I could feel his magic move as if he were softly chuckling.

We traversed Hogsmeade for another half an hour until I was happy with my haul. I sent Iris off to stay with Harry so that way I could hunt down my Booboo. The dementors were mostly keeping to the outskirts, but the biggest group of them was in between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. With a spring in my step, I hugged my cloak closer to me and began my hunt for Booboo.

It took a solid fifteen minutes of peering through several clusters of dementors until I spotted him.

_There!_

"Booboo!" I cried out, dashing to the outskirts of the town and waving my hands up and down excitedly. The dementor group rippled like a dark sea and a few broke off. Thankfully, Booboo stayed.

"Booboo!" I repeated loudly as I reached the group of dementors, out of breath from my sprint. All the dementors were now looking at me, and I pointed at Booboo. "Hey, Booboo."

The dementor now dubbed Booboo floated over to me.

"I'm glad I got to meet you again," I chattered excitedly. "Why don't you guys come into Hogwarts? You know, I have some solo tennis plays with the Whomping Willow, you should totally come to watch."

Booboo stared at me.

"I know, I know, you're on the job," I said with a roll of my eyes. "But you deserve a break. You should really experience life while you can, Booboo."

Booboo stared at me.

"Like, do you even know how to do spirit fingers?" I asked him. "Like this."

I wiggled my fingers excitedly in front of him. He did not react.

"You should try it," I said encouragingly.

He did not.

"I bought some candy, do you want some?"

He only stared.

" _Well. This is turning into a one-sided conversation."_

" _ **Turning into? Did you think he was reciprocating prior?**_ "

" _I don't know why he won't talk to me. Dementors_ can _talk right?"_

" _ **Yes. Very rarely, though. You must not be interesting enough to make him want to."**_

" _Is that a challenge I hear?"_

" _ **Maybe.**_ "

I cracked my knuckles, cleared my throat, and put on the biggest smile on my face. "Booboo, let me paint you pretty pictures with my words…"

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

On the way back from Hogsmeade I ended up needing to cuddle up in between Draco and Daphne.

"Your lips are blue," Draco noted in surprise when I climbed up into the carriage and proceeded to try and take his body heat.

"Y-Y-Yeah," I chattered, shivering violently.

"Are you okay?" Daphne asked in concern as she took a seat beside me and started to rub my arm.

"F-F-F-Fine."

"Harry gave me Iris to give back to you," Draco said. "She's sleeping in my pocket, though."

"Th-Th-Tha-Thank you."

"What did you _do_?" Theodore asked as he climbed into the carriage.

"T-Ta-Talked with th-th-the dement-dementors." I shuddered again. I may not get depression from them but _whoa_ did they make me cold. Imagine staying inside a freezer of dry ice for a few hours and talking.

"Did you already cast a warming charm?" said Draco.

"N-No—"

"You're not supposed to use warming charms against dementors," said Daphne with a headshake. "She needs to warm up naturally. Oh, does anyone have chocolate?"

Theodore pulled out a chunk of chocolate. "Here, take a bite."

"Th-Th—"

"You're welcome," Theodore kindly cut me off. "Just eat."

"Why were you talking with dementors?" Draco lifted his cloak so I could get underneath. He shivered when I did so, but it was a gesture that reminded me of my brother. What a sweetie.

The chocolate did warm me up enough to stop violently shivering. "Trying t-to make friends."

They stared at me in disbelief.

"What has my life become?" Draco asked himself. "Because _I believe you_."

"What a queen we have," Daphne said as she rubbed her forehead in exasperation.

"Why?" Theodore couldn't understand. " _Why?_ "

"Because why _n-not_?"

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

41\. Invent a spell!

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for those who wanted a more immediate emotional blow out. Rosie isn't ready for that yet.
> 
> Inventing spells is weird. You got some spells in the Potterverse that are based on root words to make it obvious what they are (Lumos, Expelliarmus, Obliviate)… and then you get shit like Accio, Alohomara, Melofors, Tergeo and so on.
> 
> I did consider sticking with Lumos but the Lumos spell requires a second word to make it bright enough to be disorientating (Lumos Solem) and I didn't want a three-word spell.
> 
> Thunder was surprisingly hard. There were a lot of variations of it: tonitrus, tonitrum, tonitruum, tonitrua, and so on. From what I could gather…
> 
> Tonitruum **:** noun of thunder (2nd in declension)
> 
> Tonitrus: masculine noun of thunder (4th in declension)
> 
> Tonitrua: vocative plural of tonitruum
> 
> Tonitrum: accusative singular of tonitrus
> 
> And so on. There were 10+ variations of thunder. I tried. :')
> 
>  **Answer:** Rosie would make her boggart do the waltz with a conjured illusion of Tom. His reaction would make her laugh. I would do something similar.
> 
>  **Question:** What spell would you want to invent first?
> 
> Reviews are **love**!


	25. Year 3 - 4

The very first Quidditch match of the season was looking absolutely dismal. It was originally supposed to be Slytherin v Gryffindor, but Draco asked me to break his arm so he could get Slytherin out of the match due to the foul weather.

For the sake of my Housemates I broke Draco’s arm in the common room. There was much cheering to be done and the Slytherin Quidditch team hoisted Draco up like a hero and carried him valiantly to Madam Pomfrey’s office. 

The raging storm was impressive. Even in the dungeons, we could hear the howling winds and clattering thunder. 

I did come better prepared that year than last. Sirius bought me a lovely umbrella with warming charms. It was big enough to easily fit three, and Daphne had also bought one of her own in the same size. 

Draco and Pansy shared the umbrella with me, while Tracey and Theodore shared Daphne’s. To my elated surprise Millie and Vincent wanted to practice their umbrella charms, so they opted out of sharing any umbrella. Gregory simply didn’t care, and Blaise had his own umbrella that he was reluctant to share with any of us.

It was a testament to how dedicated the magical community was to Quidditch that everyone still showed up in such horrendous weather. No one could even hear the commentary over the wind. 

The match wasn’t a quick one, either. It dragged on for over an hour. I could barely make out what was happening under the curtain of rain. I couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable the players must have been.

_ Poor Harry,  _ I thought. 

Even with his specially enchanted warming robes and water-repellent glasses he had to be miserable. I had to admit that Draco had the right idea about it being better to have a broken arm than play in that kind of weather. 

Then the air went from chilly to bitterly cold. A sense of tranquility washed over me, a relief of unknown pain making me sigh contently.

**_“Dementors so close to the school?”_ **

I quickly looked around and gasped when I saw at least a hundred dementors above the stadium and swarming to Harry and Cedric.

“HARRY!” I dropped my umbrella. “IRIS, LET’S GO!”

Iris surged out of my pocket and transformed into a version of herself that would be big enough to carry both of us. As an animal, she wouldn’t feel the wrath of the dementor’s depression aura, but she wouldn’t be immune to the cold.

We’d have to be quick.

“Go,” I hissed out and Iris shot up into the crowd of the dementors like a fired bullet. I raised my wand and whipped out a powered up, “ _ Lumos! _ ”

I didn’t know the Patronus spell, but it would at least help me find Harry quicker amongst their hoard and the pouring rain.

_ There! _

Harry had fallen off his broom, tumbling down into the air. Iris and I surged forward to grab him. I used Accio to pull him to me, grabbing him in my arms and urging Iris to take us straight to Madam Pompfrey. 

If he had fainted from the dementor attack, he’d need treatment right away. 

Iris flew with speed and grace that would make even pegasuses burn with envy. Within a minute she had soared into Hogwarts, and within ten seconds she reached Madam Pomfrey’s office.

“Good heavens!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. 

“My brother was attacked by at least a hundred dementors during the match,” I hurriedly explained, sliding off Iris and pulling Harry with me. He was a heavy to hold, but not impossible. 

Her face darkened upon my explanation. “Those wretched creatures… here, get him into bed. I’ve got some hot cocoa I’ve been brewing.”

Gently, I lowered Harry into the bed. I pulled out my wand, waved it and said, “ _ Aeris Calidum _ .”

The water quickly seeped out of Harry’s clothes, instantly drying them. By the time I was done with that Madam Pomfrey had come over to the bed with a cup of hot chocolate. 

“Hold his head up, dear,” she instructed. Carefully, I tilted Harry’s head up and back. With a wave of her wand, Madam Pomfrey directed a stream of hot chocolate into Harry’s mouth and I assumed down his throat. He gulped it down reflexively, color rapidly returning to his face. He was still painfully pale, but not corpse-like anymore.

“He’ll be okay?” I asked her.

“Should be,” said Madam Pomfrey, clicking her tongue. “Horrible things.”

“Then I should probably go hunt down his broom,” I said, then looked over at a shivering Iris. “Um, would you be able to—”

Madam Pomfrey noticed Iris who was curling around me and her expression softened. “Yes. Here, place her next to your brother. I’ve got plenty of warming blankets. 

_ And they’ll both enjoy the comfort cuddles,  _ I thought, kissing Iris on her nose before placing her on Harry’s chest. Madam Pomfrey returned with heavy blankets which she draped over the two of them. Iris immediately sighed in relief.

_ “Let’s go hunt a broom. How much do you wanna bet that it landed on the Whomping Willow?” _

**_“Out of_ ** **all** **_the land in Hogwarts? There’s no way.”_ **

_ “I bet that’s where it landed exactly and it’s all destroyed now.” _

**_“Fine. If you’re wrong, you have to tell me who exactly gave you my diary.”_ **

_ “Fine. If I’m right you have to tell me three of your favorites.” _

**_“Deal._ ** _ ” _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

It was indeed in the Whomping Willow. She graciously handed over the splinters of Harry’s broom when I asked her nicely to. 

Tom wasn’t happy about it, but he begrudgingly admitted to me, “ **_Favorite color is gray, favorite drink is Irish Breakfast black tea, and favorite class was alchemy.”_ **

_ “Gray is my favorite color, too! Blue is second, though. Never had Irish tea before, kinda want to try it now.” _

**_“There was a small tea shop in Hogsmeade that was comfortable to relax in when I attended Hogwarts.”_ **

_ “Next trip I’ll see if I can find it!” _

**_“Good luck. It’s out of the way._ ** _ ” _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I and Remus were the only ones Madam Pomfrey allowed to visit Harry over the weekend. Remus and I sat beside him. I held his hand as he stared forlornly at the remnants of his broom.

“I’m sure Paddy will get you a Firebolt,” I comforted Harry.

“She was my first Hogwarts broom,” Harry murmured sadly. 

“Do you want—do you want to bury her at home?” I asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes… under the treehouse. She’d like that.”

“Of course, dear.”

“Uncle Moony, why were the dementors at the game?” Harry turned to Remus with a furrowed brow. 

“The dementors have been growing restless for some time,” Remus admitted privately to us. “They were furious at Professor Dumbledore’s refusal to let them inside the ground.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, leaning further into me. I placed a comforting arm around him. In a small voice he asked, “Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?”

“It has nothing to do with weakness,” said Remus sharply before Harry could finish that. “The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don’t have. Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can’t see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soulless and evil. You’ll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.”

“When they get near me—” Harry looked away, his throat tight. “I can hear Voldemort murdering Mum.”

Remus moved to sit on Harry’s other side on the bed and he pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Why did they have to come to the match?” said Harry bitterly.

“They’re getting hungry,” said Remus coolly, plain annoyance on his face as he thought about the dementors. “Dumbledore won’t let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up. I don’t think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement… emotions running high… it was their idea of a feast.”

“Azkaban must be terrible,” Harry muttered. Lupin nodded grimly.

_ “ _ **_Are you not going to tell them about how they affect you?”_ **

_ “Not unless they ask. Kreacher already sings praises about how much of a Dark Lady I am.” _

“The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don’t need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they’re all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks.”

Harry sat up suddenly, as a thought occurred to him. “ _ You _ made that dementor on the train back off.”

“There are—certain defenses one can use,” said Remus. “But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist.”

“What defenses?” said Harry at once. “Can you teach us?”

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry… quite the contrary...”

“But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them—”

Remus sized Harry up, then glanced over at me. 

“It would have been nice to get to Harry easier,” I admitted. 

“Well… all right. We’ll get started on it after the holidays.”

“Thanks, Uncle,” said Harry softly. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Another Hogsmeade weekend was right before Christmas break, which made it super easy to get all my Christmas shopping out of the way. 

The Hogsmeade visits were almost every weekend since they started up, but there had been a couple odd ones where they didn’t happen so it was hard to predict when it would happen. 

Every trip to Hogsmeade I always went out of my way to find Booboo and chat with him. It had become such a routine that the other dementors were entirely unbothered by me when I searched through them for Booboo. 

I had to get a lot of gifts last weekend, so I made sure to bring my expandable messenger bag. I needed more clothes for Fenrir, along with a broom, and broom care kit—he was finally willing to try to learn how to fly. He could have never afforded his own broom prior, after all. 

Anyo and his family wanted to try some wizard candies—vampires  _ could  _ eat other food, but blood was essentially water to them and they needed it to survive regardless. 

Draco was hard to shop for since he literally bought whatever he wanted, so for the past years I’d only given him school-related stuff like quills, notebooks and so on. Daphne, Tracey, and Theodore were the easiest to shop for since they told me exactly what they wanted from me. I noticed Millie had started to read up about dragon care in her free time, so I got her a collection about dragon biology. Vincent and Gregory didn’t care much on what they got, so I got them new workout clothes as they were rapidly growing out of their older ones. Blaise was rather vain so expensive skin care stuff was right up his alley.

Dumbledore always got wool socks and a matching jumper. Sirius had been buying Remus clothes for as long as I can remember, so Harry and I have been purchasing him books instead. Sirius was, by far, the hardest one to shop for because he literally did not care. He wouldn’t bat an eye if he got nothing for Christmas, or if he was given a million galleons. 

The only thing I could think of was something ward-related since Sirius had been extensively studying wards for several years. He mentioned something about no one besides Dumbledore being very good about warding and ward breaking in the Order.

Part of me wondered if he hoped to create a ward stronger than Fidelius. 

Or maybe he had something else in mind entirely?

Harry liked Quidditch, or Tolkien related stuff. 

Boy, when the movies come out in 2001 he was gonna lose his mind.

Fred and George liked jokes, but since I knew about their desire to open a joke shop I figured a sack of galleons would make them happier. 

It took a little under half my time at Hogsmeade to get everything on my list. I spent the other time browsing the newspaper stand.

Despite the fact that I had performed over a dozen successful robberies, none of them were reported in the press. I could only conclude that they either hadn’t checked their Gringotts vault yet, or they didn’t want to come clean about their lack of wealth.

The Wizarding World didn’t have insurance, after all. Shit got stolen? Sucks to suck.

But that wasn’t good. I needed to push them  _ out  _ of the Wizengamot, which means they needed to be seen as weak and driven away. 

_ I need a scandal now,  _ I thought.

I couldn’t pull the “they’re Death Eaters!” card since not all of them were Death Eaters. At least half of them were simply politicians I needed out of the way. Their wealth was gone, so they couldn’t bribe their way out of trouble.

Now I needed to come up with trouble.

_ “What do you think the odds are of them updating their wards against Muggle thieves now?”  _ I mused.

Tom let out a pained sigh.  **_“I would hope they would have done so. From what I have seen… I doubt it._ ** ”

“ _ That’s what I thought. ‘Tis the season for scandals.” _

**_“A scandal would be enough to drive them out?_ ** ”

_ “One by one, yes. They won’t have the money to keep the media quiet, and once their “allies” see how vulnerable they are they won’t help. Downside of aligning with the Dark is that you don’t get the most loyal members.” _

**_“Evidently._ ** _ ” _

An idea came to me.  _ “A fair few of them are married…. I think it’s time to pay the brothels a visit. Everyone loves reading about a good affair. Or orgy.” _

**_“That’s—that’s disgusting.”_ **

_ “Which is why it’ll work great as a scandal. Good thing I snagged some of their hair. Put it in a polyjuice, hire some lovely prostitutes, take a few pics, send it to the  _ Prophet…  _ easy.” _

**_“Have you no shame?_ ** _ ” _

_ “Ever had to put a catheter inside someone and it broke?” _

**_“What?”_ **

_ “I’ve lost my shame since that day.” _

**_“When did you—why did you—?”_ **

_ “You’re pretty when you’re confused.” _

**_“What would you do with the single ones, then?”_ **

_ “Plant illegal artifacts in their home and alert Bones.” _

**_“For_ ** **all** **_of them?_ ** _ ” _

_ “No. Just a couple. I’ll only target half of my victims with the scandals this time around, otherwise it’ll be too obvious. The rest will get to panic. Who knows, they might fall into a scandal all on their own in their haste to find money to cover their butts. Won’t that be fun to see?” _

**_“You’re devious._ ** _ ” _

_ “Thank you.” _

**_“You’re welcome.”_ **

_ “Now with my shopping done, I must hunt down Booboo again.” _

Tom sighed.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Booboo was at the same spot as last time. He drifted down to meet me, and I began a one-sided conversation with him. I told him about everything that happened since last we met, and that today I would do my best to teach him to do spirit fingers. 

I passed the rest of my time at Hogsmeade like that until Draco came and found me. 

I stared intently at Booboo, my fingers wiggling furiously in front of him.

From a distance, I could hear Draco shout at me, “What are you doing now?”

“I’m trying to teach Booboo spirit fingers!” I yelled back. “Come on, Booboo, I know you can do it.”

Booboo continued to float in front of me, staring at me. 

“C’mon. You got this. Wiggle those fingers!”

He only stared. He only ever stared. Sometimes it was a menacing stare, but most of the time it felt indifferent. 

“Time to go back!”

“Damn it. You’ll learn spirit fingers one day, Booboo. I believe in you.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I visited Lunar’s Orchid on my first night back. I hugged Fenrir tightly, and he returned it just as fiercely.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay long my friend,” I apologized as I began to pull out his wrapped Christmas gifts. “This break I’ll be dealing some final blows to a few of our enemies.”

“On’y a few?” Fenrir jokingly asked.

“Gotta move slowly,” I said with a shrug. “I can’t risk drawing attention to my movements, or worse, anyone connecting me to Lunar’s Orchard before our enemies are disposed of.”

“Need any ‘elp?”

“I don’t suppose you know a brothel run by someone we can trust to keep a secret?”

“Ahh…” Fenrir stared at me. “Actually, yeah. Madam Lewl. ’Er daugh’er’s one of us. She been keen teh wantin’ teh help out Lunar’s Orchard and keen teh wantin’ a stronger leadership position ‘ere.”

“Can we trust her?”

“She’d do anything fer her daugh’er. You wanna ‘spose of people who are a threat teh ‘er daugh’er, yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Then yeah.”

“Can you introduce us now?”

Fenrir cocked his head in thought. “Yeah. Stay ‘ere, I’ll bring ‘er to yeh.”

“Have I told you recently how much I love you?”

“In e’ry letter fer teh past five years,” Fenrir laughed.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Christmas was warm and cuddly. Harry and I huddled under a blanket by a fire while Remus and Sirius regaled us with tales of their youth. We drank eggnog, enjoyed the feast prepared by Dobby and Kreacher, then went to bed with happy spirits. 

In the morning we exchanged gifts. The first gifts passed on to us were little white notebooks with a bouquet of flowers drawn on them.

“Lily prepared these for you both,” said Remuse with a kind smile. 

Harry and I carefully opened the books, finding they were mostly identical with a few differences. Lily had hand-written a notebook of spells and little passages for each of us. There were a lot of shared spells—she wrote down housework spells, spells she personally loved, and every spell she had crafted herself. In Harry’s notebook she prepared more passages that she would want to pass on to her son, and in mine she prepared passages for a daughter. 

“When did she write this?” I asked quietly as I rubbed at my eyes.

“Before you were born,” answered Sirius. 

“Did Dad write in this, too?”

“Near the end.”

Harry and I marveled over the notebook for another hour or so until it was time to open the other presents. 

I glared at Sirius for giving me three new unicorn plushies.

“Stop giving me these unicorns,” I grumbled as I cradled the silver and blue one he gave me. 

“But a princess needs her unicorns.”

“I am an evil queen, not a princess.”

“Sure you are,” Sirius placated me. 

“Curse you,” I muttered rebelliously.

“I got you a unicorn too sis,” Harry cheekily added as he held out another stuffed unicorn toy.

I threw it at his face.

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third year’s pretty short in comparison to the other years because I removed the plot haha. Just means we’re moving faster to the next year where the horrors of Dating™ and Courting™ and Crushes™ become a thing! 
> 
> **Answer:** Flash-bang. 
> 
> **Question:** What would you bring to Hogwarts? 
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	26. Year 3 - 5

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Our first week back at Hogwarts meant it was time for our Patronus lessons. Harry and I met Remus in his office where he began to explain how we could defend ourselves against the dementors.

Harry was quite determined, while I was admittedly more curious what my Patronus looked like than worried about being knocked out by a dementor.

"Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus," said Remus, "which is a kind of anti-dementor—a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor. The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon—hope, happiness, the desire to survive—but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"What does a Patronus look like?" said Harry curiously.

"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it."

"And how do you conjure it?"

"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."

"The incantation is this—" Remus cleared his throat and did a flowy wand movement. " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

Harry and I mimicked his movements several times until he was satisfied.

"Now, since Harry's boggart is that of a dementor, I figured that would be the best way to practice. Rosie, please stand back while Harry practices. I don't want the boggart to take on your fear."

"Agree with you there," I dryly muttered.

Harry took a stand against the chest the boggart was captured in. Remus gave him a few more seconds to get ready then he opened the chest and the boggart-dementor popped out. I honestly felt no presence from it. Only Harry was affected since it was his fear. He seized, unable to conjure anything before he fell to the ground and Remus had to banish the boggart back into the chest.

"Are you all right?" worriedly asked Remus.

"Yes." Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leaned against it.

"Here—" Remus handed him a Chocolate Frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had."

"It's getting worse," Harry muttered, biting off the Frog's head. "I could hear her louder that time—and him—Voldemort—"

Remus paled, his face darkened in grief. "Harry, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand—"

"I do!" said Harry fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "I've got to! What if the dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!"

"All right then," Remus soothed. "You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on. That one doesn't seem to have been strong enough."

Again they tried, but that time around Harry fainted for a solid thirty seconds. Remus tapped Harry hard on the face to wake him back up. Harry was groggy and I offered him my hand to help him sit up properly.

"I heard Dad," Harry mumbled. "That's the first time I've ever heard him—he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give us time to run for it..."

"Listen, perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced. I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this..."

"No!" said Harry. He got up again. "I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is… Hang on."

Harry's face screwed up in thought.

"Okay," Harry said sternly.

"Ready?" said Remus, who looked as though he were doing this against his better judgment. "Concentrating hard? All right: go!"

He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the boggart-dementor rose out of it.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" Harry bellowed. " _EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

For the first time, there were streams of silver mist pouring out of Harry's wand. It wasn't enough to call it a success, as Harry's knees buckled in, but it was still impressive.

" _Riddikulus_!" roared Remus, springing forward. There was a loud crack, and Harry's cloudy Patronus vanished along with the dementor; he sank into a chair, out of breath and trembling.

"Excellent!" Remus said, striding over to where Harry sat. "Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!"

"Can we have another go? Just one more go?"

"Not now," said Remus firmly. "You've had enough for one night. Here —" He handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes's best chocolate. "Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Rosie—"

"I know, I know. Simply speaking the incantation for now," I said.

 _I've got plenty of_ actual _dementors to practice on during the Hogsmeade visit. Better to get the wand movement and pronunciation down first._

"For now, yes."

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

At the end of January I finally received the _Daily Prophet_ headlines I wanted:

_**BIGGEST WIZENGAMOT SCANDAL IN RECENT HISTORY!** _

"Oh, yeah, this is gonna be a great day," I chuckled to myself as I began to read _all_ about how Harper, Jacobs, Natters, Rowle, Travers, Trickles, and Fawley were caught in a disgusting orgy on camera—and apparently it wasn't their first one. The article doesn't go into the gritty details, but it was juicy nonetheless.

Madam Bones arresting Carrow and Rosier for their illegal position of dangerous Dark artifacts seemed rather dull in comparison.

But that was enough.

In order to replace Dark members with Light I needed to discredit them in the public's eye and then push them out. Once they had lost enough favor—both publicly and politically—I could propose for Lord Greengrass to put forward a re-election for certain seats.

The Dark seats would not have enough power or money to keep their spots. I had little faith in their ability to scrounge up enough wit between the lot of them to prepare for such a thing. Too arrogant to consider it a real possibility. They hadn't even publicized what they had lost, they wouldn't dare ask for a helping hand until they're blindsided.

They'd become a stain. No one would help them, not even the Malfoy family would dare do so in fear of incurring the public's suspicious gaze.

All I needed was time, a couple more scandals, and my own members to propose.

" _ **Have people in mind?"**_

" _Yes. Time I introduced Enáretos to them."_

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

January faded into February and then into March. Exams came around once again and the babeh snakes found themselves studying with a few babeh lions. Namely Harry, Hermione, and Neville. Ron was still reluctant to spend time with the Slytherins, and he had stopped coming to running practice all together.

Our group was too big for the library, so we found ourselves studying together at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

I idly stroked my fluffy flufferkins textbook as Millie tried to come up with an answer to my question.

"Um… the… um…" Millie's face was screwed up in concentration. "I don't remember, sorry."

"You got this Millie," Hermione encouraged her. "Remember the song?"

A lightbulb went off in Mille's head. "Ah! Yeah, um, then the answer is the gillyspeil?"

"Correct," I praised her. "You're going to do well for your Creature exam."

"Thanks," Millie said with a big smile. "I—I wanna work with dragons."

"Ron's brother works with dragons," Harry mentioned across the table where he and Draco were quizzing each other over Potions.

"Yeah. When Ron mentioned it at the start of the year I couldn't get it out of my head," Millie admitted.

"Have you talked to a professor about it?" I asked. "See what you need N.E.W.T.s for?"

"Yeah. A lot," Millie sighed. "N.E.W.T. in Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Care of Magical Creatures."

Tracey grimaced. "I feel you. I was looking into what the requirements were to be a Healer."

"A Healer?" Hermione gasped, her eyes brightening. "Me, too."

"What! No way."

"It was a thought," Hermione admitted. "I did consider Cursebreaker but I don't think I could be brave enough for that."

"You've got plenty of bravery to spare, Hermione," I told her.

"Yeah, you're a Gryffindor," Daphne added with a nod.

Hermione only shrugged, a small smile on her face. "Maybe."

"Anyone else know what they want to do?" I asked.

"I'll be taking over my father's spot in Wizengamot," said Daphne as she brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Don't really need a N.E.W.T. for that, so I'll take whatever interests me."

"Likewise," said Draco as he looked up from his Charms book. "But Father and Mother want at least five N.E.W.T.s."

"Dueling for me, obviously," Theodore said with a shrug. "There's nothing else that holds my interest."

Gregory fiddled with his textbook as he grunted out, "Was thinkin' going pro Beater."

"You're a bloody nuisance to face, you'd do well," Harry complimented him which earned him a shy smile.

"I don't really have a dream," Pansy muttered, her gaze narrowing. "Just some job at the Ministry will do."

"I'd like to go into art," said Blaise as he took Pansy's Transfiguration textbook and looked it over. "Pansy, these notes are terrible."

"I don't see _your_ notes, Blaise."

"Why would I need them when I have you?" Blaise asked with a flirty wink.

Pansy's face soured and she took back her book to hit him on the shoulder with it.

I cleared my throat. "Vincent, how about you?"

"I—I like Zonko's. Maybe I wanna work at a joke shop," Vincent hesitantly put in. "I don't really know yet."

"And Neville?"

Neville scratched at his cheek. "My dad was an auror. I'd like to be one, too."

"That makes two of us," Harry said with a nudge.

"And let me guess for you, Rosie," Draco snidely added. "Minister of Magic?"

"You're thinking too low," I laughed.

"What could be higher?"

"Queen of Wor—I mean Magic?" I joked.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Mid March I was on yet another visit to Hogsmeade and trying desperately to teach Booboo the spirit fingers.

He only stared at me.

After an hour of wiggling my fingers to the point where they were aching, I gave up and switched back over to Patronus practice. I had made some nice progress over the past few months, and the other dementors seemed amused when I tried to chase them around with my barely visible Patronus.

"Today's the day," I told Booboo as I readied my wand. "Today I'll finally see my Patronus!"

Booboo stared at me. The other dementors were circling us.

" _ **You said that the last two weekends.**_ "

" _Hush, eye-candy."_

" _ **Oh I'm eye-candy now?"**_

" _What do you mean_ now _? I've always called you pretty and handsome."_

" _ **Eye-candy seems to be an upgrade.**_ "

" _I—I mean I guess. Hmm… what's after eye-candy, then?"_

" _ **Unparalleled."**_

" _Tom, you're unparalleled in your beauty."_

" _ **Thank you.**_ "

I let out a long breath then bellowed out, " _EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

The surge of joyous magic shot out from my heart, down my arm, to my fingertips, and out my wand as it, at long last, took on a shape. I let out a big yelp of happiness as I saw my Patronus dance around me.

A fox.

" _Thank God, I was worried it would be a phoenix."_

" _ **Why would it be a phoenix?"**_

" _Uh… Look how adorable my Patronus is! What do you think yours is?"_

" _ **I would assume a type of snake."**_

" _That goes without saying. But do you think you'd get an occamy?"_

" _ **Doubtful.**_ "

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

Harry and Remus were ever so proud of me when I displayed my fox Patronus. Harry was able to produce his own corporal Patronus the same day.

It was not a stag.

I repeat: Harry's Patronus no longer matched canon.

It made me whistle when I saw it. I had always been a believer of nurture over nature, but I hadn't considered that Harry's life with me would have had such a change in his personality compared to canon that his Patronus would no longer be a stag.

When I stopped to consider it, it seemed obvious.

Canonical Harry was prideful, stubborn, noble, heroic, reckless, and fiercely loyal. He was an admirable hero to read about, but he had his own human flaws—he was quick to anger, reluctant to forgive, and he struggled to see the bigger picture.

My little Harry was certainly stubborn, but he was cautious by nature and was more than willing to show flexibility to appease an argument. He was quiet, studious, and never struggled with his temper. He wasn't the type to go out of his way to make friends, nor did he feel that he had to bend over backwards to keep friendships. He was confident in himself, content with his family, and happy with his life.

Both were loyal, brave, and loving. But my Harry had no temper, and was raised in a loving home that allowed him to more easily forgive those who have slighted him. My Harry had decent self-confidence, but his pride wasn't so great that he couldn't admit he was wrong to people he disliked (canonical Harry would sooner eat shit than admit Snape was right about something prior to the reveal).

The stag was a Patronus of heroism, nobility, and pride. My lovely twin was heroic and noble, but not nearly so prideful.

Instead of a stag that stood proudly beside him it was a little cat with a thick coat of fur. Remus identified it as a Siberian cat after flipping through a Patronus guidebook—and he confirmed my fox was a red fox while he was at it.

A cat. My twin was a cat!

I hoped our Patronuses would match our animagus forms so we could be extra cuddle buddies.

Things were going well. It had been a very relaxing school year, all things considered. Rookwood had made no appearance anywhere near Hogwarts, so the Ministry was planning on removing the dementors before the end of the year. There had been no real sign of Rookwood, so I had to wonder what he was up to. I didn't know much about the fella since he was a minor Death Eater.

Did he play it smart and take a year to recover his strength before looking for Voldemort? He was an Unspeakable, so surely he had _some_ intelligence.

Or was he like Karkaroff and would take the opportunity to flee and never be seen from again?

How did he even escape, anyway? Was he also an illegal animagus? Where the heck was Peter Pettigrew? The Weasley's didn't have a rat—which made sense, since Sirius was alive, active, and probably on the look out for a rat.

In time, I suspected I'd find out. I wasn't able to break into Crouch's mansion to prevent that whole fiasco from going down, so I had a pretty good feeling that the TriWizard Tournament and resurrection thing was still going to happen next year.

Peter would either return to Voldemort or never bother us again.

He and Umbridge were the only two people I made exceptions to murdering regardless of their use—because yes, I could think of better ways to use them. I chose not. Peter as honorary vengeance for James and Lily, and Umbrdige because _fuck_ that bitch. She was a savvy politician, I did _not_ want to deal with her outside the capacity of burning her corpse. She was smart enough to get an Unplottable home so I couldn't track her down for any attacks, but that only aggravated me further.

Present Voldemort was a creature I honestly could not think of a way to deal with outside of murder. He was insane, impossible to reason with, and very dangerous. He was someone who actively wanted to hurt my family. I couldn't ignore that.

I could differentiate Voldemort from Tom, which was why I was open to the idea of judging Tom as Tom instead of Voldemort. I had not picked up on any of the insanity of Voldemort in Tom, and I found Tom easy to converse and reason with. Presently, I saw no reason to view him as someone dangerous enough to outright murder.

My scandals were working out well. There had been some effort to refute it, but the press just gobbled up my fabricated story and ran with it.

I couldn't let it die down yet. Scandals were momentary things. I had to keep up the pressure for as long as I could which meant it was time for more scandals.

So in between my studies I had to come up with several more sensational yet believable incidents and feed them to the _Daily Prophet_. They were things ranging from so and so having a bastard squib, to blah blah skimming top off donations to charity. Everything and everyone on my list was a target.

By the time I finished my third year exams a few members on my check list were as good as done. They resigned, leaving their empty seats to fall with their remaining allies. Still, an empty seat was progress.

I didn't plan on asking my neutral allies to propose re-election until I could secure the Light seats. I estimated it would take a couple of years.

If everything went as canonical, I could likely force a re-vote at the end of my fifth year. Assuming Voldemort came back, the Ministry tries to hide him, and then once he gets revealed they look like an idiot.

Actually—

It would be the perfect finishing blow.

A rallying cry for change. The ultimate push to tip the politics in Light.

Heck, I could probably even make a bid for Minister of Magic as _Enáretos_ If I started campaigning—

" _Oh, Tom. I think I've just thought up of something utterly brilliant."_

" _ **Care to share?"**_

" _I think I want to surprise you. I think you'll be so impressed with me you'll declare me as your forever best friend then and there._ "

Tom's magic quivered like quiet, suppressed laughter. " _ **I'm looking forward to it."**_

My musings in the Slytherin common room—our group had been studying with the babeh lions—been interrupted when I caught wind of part of my babeh snakes' conversation.

"... the dementors will be heading home today now," Theodore casually told Hermione while she looked over his Transfiguration homework.

"The—The dementors are leaving?" I gasped. "No, please, I must say goodbye to Booboo at least."

"Rosie, no," Harry sighed but it was too late. I was already running to Professor Dumbledore's office. At a dead sprint—and ignoring Professor Snape's snarl of outrage—it took me a few minutes to reach Dumbledore's office. Luck was on my side as he was just exiting his office.

"Please," I panted, "let me say goodbye to the dementors! To my Booboo!"

"Your… Boobo?" Professor Dumbledore repeated that name slowly, twinkling eyes befuddled and amused.

"Yes. He's a lovely dementor."

"Ah… I had… _heard_ a student was seen frequently near the dementors at Hogsmeade," Professor Dumbledore said slowly. "Miss Potter such creatures—"

"Please, Professor," I cut in, my tone pleading. "I know the Patronus charm if that helps."

"Do you really?" Professor Dumbledore's expression was filled with delight. "Might I see it?"

"Oh—oh, of course. _Expecto Patronum!_ " I called forth my fox Patronus, and it swirled in the air gracefully.

"That is most impressive. Professor Lupin had said you and Harry were receiving extra lessons for that charm. Very well, Miss Potter. You may accompany me to meet with the dementors, although the aurors have already arrived and will be leaving with them shortly."

Professor Dumbledore was quick in his strides as he guided us out of the castle and to the gates where indeed I saw a few aurors and many dementors.

"Booboo!" I shouted out at the horde of dementors that was getting ready to leave. I furiously waved and jumped, trying desperately to get Booboo's attention. To my elation, the dementors took notice of me and Booboo broke apart from the horde to descend upon me.

The aurors moved to stand between us, but I ran past them to reach Booboo. I heard Professor Dumbledore say something to them, but I couldn't make it out.

Booboo stared at me. My bottom lip quivered.

"Booboo—I—I—" I was getting choked up. We had been through so much together. He was such a fantastic listener.

Booboo continued to stare at me.

"I'll never forget you Booboo. I love you," I whispered, my eyes stinging at our departure.

Booboo stared at me for a long moment, then he slowly lifted his skeletal arm and placed a hand on my cheek. It burned. It was literally like dry ice touching bare skin. It brought instinctive tears of pain to well up in my gaze but I didn't dare move away. That kind of thing could be fixed up, but nothing could repair the heartbreak of losing Booboo.

I sniffled, the first of many tears rolling down my cheek. "I'm going to miss you so much."

He patted my cheek, withdrew his hand, and then slowly drifted back up at the horde. I cried, waving goodbye at him through my tears.

Just before he was out of sight, he lifted both of his hands and wiggled his skeletal fingers at me.

It was the spirit fingers.

I wept. "I knew you could do it, buddy. I'm so proud of you..."

Professor Dumbledore and his phoenix Patronus arrived at my side. He offered me a handkerchief and patted my shoulder. "I'm sure you'll meet Booboo again one day."

I blew into his handkerchief. "You really think so?"

"A friendship like that won't easily be broken," he kindly told me. "Let's treat that frost burn on your cheek now."

"Okay…"

The aurors were giving me a funny look as Professor Dumbledore escorted me back to Hogwarts.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Bonus (an alternative Patronus):**

"Expecto Patronum!" I shouted, focusing everything I had on that hazy memory of happiness.

After months of training, the wisps finally solidified and transformed into a—

" _No_ ," I whispered in horror. "NO!"

It was not the occamy I had so desperately wanted, nor the fox I was okay as a backup.

Prancing cheerfully in front of me was a goddamn unicorn Patronus.

I fell to my knees in despair as I listened to Tom's laughter in my head. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Booboo continued to stare at me while I wallowed in misery.

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

43\. Learn Patronus (I bet Kreacher mine is an occammy, Kreacher bet fox, and Sirius bet unicorn). **Note: Kreacher wins another bet. Fella on a roll!**

45\. Can they learn how to do spirit fingers?

46\. Keep Remus's furry little secret an actual secret

**(≖‿‿≖)** **ノ⌒●** **~***

*****~***~*****

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled picking between occammy, fox, raven, or phoenix for Rosie. I did get Occammy on the Pottermore quiz as Rosie so I was tempted to go with it, but it felt too special. And I really like foxes.
> 
> But raven was so tempting because of her obvious association with death. But foxes are so fluffy and cute.
> 
> Harry's Patronus was also another struggle. I was originally going to pick a bird for him—his love of flying made it an obvious choice—but I ultimately went with something fluffy to match his family.
> 
> Per mugglenet:
> 
>  **Fox Patronus -** Associated with cunning, the fox has a place in many ancient cultures' folklore. Foxes are sometimes thought to be tricksters, leading the unsuspecting down a path of demise. The calculating fox can outwit its enemies with strategy and adaptability.
> 
>  **Siberian Cat Patronus -** Siberian cats are perfect as Patronuses. Fearless yet easygoing, they seem to always know when their humans need them for support or comfort. They can be quiet, with soft melodic purrs and chirps. While these may not be the cats to chase down a Dementor, they will stay with you, protecting and calming you until the Dementor fades away.
> 
> Young!Dumbledore would be a ride or die bff and you cannot change my mind about that.
> 
>  **Answer:** Expandable feather-light bag if possible. I would not want to lug around those textbooks up and down steps every day for seven years.
> 
>  **Question:** What's your Patronus?
> 
> Reviews are **love**!


	27. Year 4 - 1

I had put away my homework for the night. I leaned back in my chair at my desk, stretching my arms up wide. To my left was the discarded  _ Daily Prophet _ . My scandals were dying down. After thinking it over some more, I had to revise my plans of stirring up more scandals in my fourth year. I had already done a lot of damage, but tragically it wasn’t going to be as impactful anymore. I was reminded that people could become used to a new norm too quickly and my  _ juicy  _ scandals were becoming dull. It was time to take my victory before I overstayed, the dust needed to settle. 

I’d monitor the situation for about a year, then when I was ready to make the killing blow all those scandals that I had brewed in my third year would come raring back to the front page. I had primed the explosives, now I only needed to wait for the right opportunity to unleash the trigger. 

A good chunk of my summer, like all the previous summers, had been spent managing Lunar’s Orchard, working on the werewolf potion, and stealing. I still had my appearance to keep up as Gentleman Rose, even if most of my efforts now went to focusing on Death Eaters. 

The authorities were under the vastly incorrect impression that they were intimidating me into thieving less.

Ha.

Anyo and Odette were fantastic assistants, even if they could not provide much input in the way of potions, their company and ability to methodically and accurately follow instructions made them indispensable. 

It was also fun to try and create a sun protection potion for vampires on the side. We were getting better on that front, too! We had a recipe that lasted an hour, but ideally we wanted it to last from sunrise to sunset. It would open a whole new world of possibilities for the vampires, and Anyo had personally reassured me that we would be able to make a fortune selling it to the other vampires. 

While I was the one crafting it, Anyo would make the ideal salesman and contact with the vampire community so I suggested we split the profits 70/30 his way. Not only did I have  _ no  _ knowledge over the vampire economy, market, or even connections outside of Anyo’s family, but I lacked the time to learn such. He was delighted to accept such, and I was relieved. 

Being so busy, though, meant I had to spread out my summer work over several nights. Harry could rush his in a single night and not have to worry about it the rest of his summer.

It also meant that when Remus decided it was time to resume our tutoring in math again I’d be even busier. 

I loved my uncle, I really did, and I appreciated that he was doing everything he could to prepare us for future classes.

But goddamn I hated math. 

I got it! I understood why it was necessary. I truly wanted to get into Professor Dumbledore’s Alchemy class my sixth year at Hogwarts. We’d still need to score a minimum of an E in Potions on our O.W.L.s. I was hella confident in my potion making skills, and by consequence Harry was hella confident I could tutor him over the year. 

Alchemy was an ancient science that studied nature's four basic (magical not chemical) elements: fire, earth, air, water, and focused on the transmutation of substances. 

I didn’t  _ need  _ to know alchemy for my plans. Alchemy rarely related to ritual crafting, and I was doing perfectly fine with my potions. My desire to learn alchemy was purely scientific curiosity—it was something I was doing for myself. There was a bubbling interest in the science of it, and I wondered if perhaps… 

Well, I wondered if  _ perhaps _ there’d be a way to alchemically transmute magic. Like,  _ literally _ , give magic a solid form. I had read plenty of books about magic stones or ores that produced magic. Yet in the Wizarding World I hadn’t seen anything close to it, or even found any hints to someone researching it. 

Why? 

Clearly magic was  _ something _ . It was something tangible that interacted with the world, yet no one had found a way to directly interact with it? To give it a solid form to play with? 

I wanted to. If I could harness magic and transform it into a raw, solid form that could then be used in… say… rituals. 

Could I use raw magic I had built up over years as substitute ingredients in rituals? Namely, could I use it in place of power that would otherwise be difficult for a human to obtain? If so, what would my new limits become? 

Would I even  _ have  _ limits?

I hadn’t shared those thoughts or ideas with anyone yet—not even Tom. It wasn’t done out of malice, or selfishness, so much as I wanted to understand more about the subject before creating a hypothesis to present. If I broached the subject with what little information I knew it’d be laughably one-sided. I wanted to stand as an equal, at the very least. 

_ Really looking forward to a summer where I can just relax,  _ I thought to myself as I shook my head.

**_“Rosie?”_ **

_ “Hm _ ?”

_ “How can I help you, Tom?”  _ I asked him.

**_“I have been going over the biology notes,”_ ** Tom began _ , “ _ **_and I was hoping you could help clarify some things.”_ **

_ “I can do my best. Let me move to the bed first.” _

In my third year at Hogwarts Tom had requested a laboratory in his cottage to work on developing spells and going over some things I had taught him. My memories over biology were oddly pristine—as if the knowledge had been ingrained into my very soul. Tom had expressed sincere interest in learning about human biology since I gave him that crash course, but I didn’t have the time to tutor him constantly. 

The best solution was to condense that knowledge into a series of books and loan them out for him to read. I didn’t wholly understand how my memories were able to translate as incredibly accurate textbooks, but that was a thought for another time. I didn’t entirely understand how magic worked outside my head, let alone inside my mind. I hadn’t found a limit to the possibilities of what magic could do with enough imagination. 

At the very least that first life of obsessive studying wouldn’t go to waste. 

Tom was a brilliant wizard and had little difficulty in his self-studies. He picked up on things in minutes that took me literal days of agonizing over originally.

Bastard.

I entered my mind palace after a couple of minutes of meditating on the bed. I found Tom at his cottage, the textbooks sprawled out around him on the floor. He had several floating parchments and pens writing out things that he muttered. He looked up at me when I entered the cottage, giving me that perfectly fake angelic smile.

“What’s up?” I asked him, taking a seat beside him on the wooden floor.

Tom tapped on a word in one of the textbooks. I peered at it. 

“Dendrites?” I read the word out loud. “Oooh. You’re on the brain now, aren’t you?”

“Humanity has truly made some marvelous advancements in fifty years,” commented Tom. “As I understand the… Muggles have a better grasp of human biology than wizards do.”

“In some cases,” I agreed. “I’d say the wizards know the skeletal and cardiovascular system better, though.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed briefly in thought. “Mm… yes. But the Muggles' comprehension of the nervous system is… remarkable.”

Tom’s magic subtly twinged at that, as if it physically hurt him to say. 

“Humans are resourceful,” I said. “They’ve had to adapt to life without magic. Both communities have advancements and setbacks. It’s in our best interest to take the best of both worlds.”

“Agreed,” said Tom, and I had a good feeling he meant it. “This, however, these  _ dendrites _ are… odd. It says they play a role in memory formation.”

“Correct,” I agreed.

“Then what of the soul?” he asked. “I have no physical body, yet I am here. And what of your mind palace?”

“Ah. Yes, that’s an excellent question,” I agreed. “I imagine it’s similar to the whole phylactery conundrum.” 

Tom blinked. “Phylactery?”

_ Ah. DnD wasn’t around in his period,  _ I realized. I coughed.

“A phylactery is what a lich—an undead necromancer—uses as a way of obtaining immortality,” I began to explain, finding it a bit ironic I was explaining a phylactery to a  _ Horcrux _ . “The lich places their soul in an inanimate object and then moves on to possess an undead body. As long as the phylactery remains safe then the lich can create an endless amount of new bodies to inhabit upon death.”

Tom was very still. His magic was stiff, cold, and alert. His dark eyes betrayed nothing of his interest, but I suddenly felt like I was being scrutinized by a very dangerous predator. 

_ This is exciting. _

I cleared my throat before I continued. “A lich obviously has no brain left, and as the phylactery is an inanimate object it doesn’t have a brain either. How can it hold onto memories without flesh? The answer should be obvious: the soul. The question then turns to exactly how a soul holds memories, and how does it affect the physical body? The rest is purely theory, mind you, as I can’t say I’ve run into an elder lich to directly question. I believe it can be agreed that the soul holds memories, but perhaps it cannot hold  _ everything _ .”

Tom raised a perfect eyebrow. “Why do you think that?”

“Hmm… let me put it like this,” I said. “What’s two plus two?”

“Four.”

“Tell me the day you learned that.”

Tom opened his mouth to answer, then he shut it.

“Tell me the day you learned the sky is blue,” I pressed on. “When did you learn the word sweet? What ice cream tastes like? That snow is cold? These memories aren’t important for us to keep, but the knowledge is. The  _ knowledge  _ is what the soul holds, and the body keeps the memories. It’s not a perfect process; most brains are not perfectly eidetic and it still takes time for them to develop enough to begin retaining those memories, but it gets the job done.”

Tom carefully considered the theory, mulling it over. 

“There could be exceptions, of course,” I went on. “If a phylactery was made with the purpose of retaining memories then it could probably do so for a while. I can’t imagine it would be ideal for it. What do you think, Tom?”

Tom did not answer for several minutes. His magic was still stiff, and I could feel a certain level of intensity from it that made me bite my tongue to keep from interrupting him. He was thinking over what I had said, and from what I felt, I didn’t think he was happy about it.

“You…” Tom closed his eyes, then let out a soft sigh before re-opening them. “I feel that your theory has some truth to it. A… phylactery is likely not meant to retain memories. Even if one were designed with the intent, there is a fundamental issue with the body given.”

“An inanimate object can’t easily store memories,” I said.

“Correct,” came his clipped response. He was quiet for another minute, his magic curling around my own like ivy wrapping around a throat. “What do you think I am?”

“A phylactery,” I answered. “I clearly feel that you have a soul, but you don’t have a body.”

“Then do you think I am a  _ lich _ ?” came his dry response, his magic tightening around my own to make me uncomfortable. It was only because I was a sensor that I could feel his subtle anger, and distrust. He knew I felt him like winter, but I never disclosed to him I could sense emotions behind magic. His appearance remained perfectly calm and angelic, and he did not make any overt actions to take over, but—

There was a very good chance if I said the wrong thing, he would try.

“No,” I answered, remaining honest. “But I don’t think it matters.”

His magic curled tighter.

“Why not?” he asked. 

I tilted my head. “Because you’re Tom. You’re a brilliant young wizard with an absurdly pretty face and a buttery voice that I would literally pay hundreds of galleons to pay you to read me to sleep.”

He stared at me. 

“What?” I asked. “Want me to go on? You’re charming, easy to talk to, ridiculously smart, and all around a great guy.”

“You don’t know me nearly that well,” Tom shrewdly said, his magic slowly pulling back.

“I know you have excellent taste in favorite colors,” I pointed out. Then I offered him a smile. “But you’re right. I don’t know you nearly as much as I’d like to. Willing to change that?”

His magic abruptly snapped back, recoiling from my own magic as if it were about to set him on fire or something. He offered up that practiced fake smile that honestly deserved an award on its own. “I—”

I reached forward, pinched his cheeks, and spread them out to make a bigger smile. 

“Your fake smile is cute and all, but I’d like to see a real one,” I teased. Then I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I won’t push you to open up if you don’t want to. But I hope you know that I’ve got open arms for you, Tom.”

_ Never thought that I would say that and actually mean it. _

I could differentiate Tom and Voldemort fine. When I had initially set out to answer some of my questions about him I hadn’t been expecting much. The manipulation was apparent, but underneath it there was more. He was hurt when he found out he had failed, and his followers abandoned him. He listened to my opinions and even if he did not agree with all of them he honestly considered it. He was helpful. 

And kindest of all—he didn’t judge me. He did not pressure for questions, or think less of me over my actions, or even my fear. 

I couldn’t say with a straight face he was a  _ nice  _ person, or someone capable of empathy, but I couldn’t say he was evil, either.

He was more guarded than Fenrir, but they shared a similar pain.

Maybe one day we could actually be friends. 

I stood up from the cottage, Tom staring at me with wide eyes for a moment before he quickly recovered and plastered on that angelic smile again.

“I don’t know what you mean, Rosie,” he lied.

I smiled back in return. “Okay, Tom.”

An idea popped in my head.

“Hey Tom, wanna go see some movies?”

“Movies?” he repeated the word blankly.

“Yep. Let’s find your favorite movie.”

“That’s not nec—”

“As your future best friend it is my duty,” I cut him off with a wink and thumbs up. “It'll be fun. If you have a favorite genre to read we can start from there.”

“I do not,” said Tom shortly. “I did not have the opportunity to read for pleasure very often.”

“Welp. Looks like we’re gonna have a  _ lot  _ of ground to cover.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The hunt to find Tom’s favorite things took priority. Sirius and Harry were more than happy to go movie binging with me. It was a bit tricky to figure out how to get a television to work properly in the home—Sirius ended up personally amending the wards which was super cool to watch—but once it was set up a movie was always playing in the home. 

It took several days before Tom had watched enough to decide that he preferred mysteries which honestly surprised me—and I think it surprised him.

From that point, it wasn’t hard to find books to read with him—he preferred books over movies—and then every night I stayed up a little bit later to read a couple of chapters out of a mystery novel with Tom. 

Most of the time he was a quiet listener—he did admit that he liked how I did the voices—but sometimes he’d feel a bit sassy and make a comment on how the characters behaved. The victims at the beginning of the novel faced the brunt of his snark. 

I had his favorite color, drink, class, movie, and genre. Next up was to find his favorite song and instrument!

I immediately guessed piano and that he was probably an amazing pianist.

“Never learned to play,” he flippantly told me.

“But you have such elegant fingers,” I gasped. 

“I have been told that several times,” said Tom. “I—I did not have access to a piano growing up, nor did I find one at Hogwarts.”

“Not even in the Room of Requirement?”

“I did not know about such a place until I met you,” he said. 

_ Ah. Right. Diary made in the fifth year, and the diadem was made in the seventh year. Er… or maybe the diary was made in the seventh year but still before the diadem? He certainly was knowledgeable for a fifth year, but I supposed if he spent so much of his time studying instead of learning anything about what  _ he  _ liked… And since he’s such an absurd genius he was probably able to learn twice as much as I could my first years at Hogwarts. _

_ Bastard.  _

“Do you want to learn?” I asked him.

“I do enjoy the music it creates,” he admitted. “But I certainly can’t learn now.”

“Nonsense. I can teach you,” I said as I conjured up a grand piano outside. It overlooked the black sea.

“ _ You  _ know how?” Tom was genuinely surprised.

“It’s like riding a bike,” I told him as I took a seat at the piano. “I might be rusty, but I remember enough.  _ If  _ you want to learn that is.”

Tom offered me that lovely smile of his and he took a seat beside me. “I look forward to learning more from you, Rosie.”

“I look forward to learning more about you, Tom,” I returned.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

With my priorities shifted to Tom, I wasn’t able to do as much thievery as I would have liked, but it was a happy trade-off. I was able to keep up on building repertoire with the neutral and Light families on the Wizengamot through letters, while slowly meeting more families to potentially replace the Dark seats. Lunar’s Orchid had grown stable after a couple of years of consistent magical herb output, and everyone was happy with taking the non-pain potions. 

Fenrir was doing an excellent job on managing it. He didn’t have the traditional experience to handle the bureaucratic side of it, but Odette was happy to assist him until he could handle it. Fenrir had started to put together a proper government inside Lunar’s Orchid. I felt confident in his ability that I let him take control over it.

If it became an issue, I’d deal with it, but I had faith in Fenrir so I wasn’t concerned.

In fact, the summer was more enjoyable than the other ones.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved being a thief. 

But I had to say spending the summer being something close to a normal teenage witch was  _ really  _ nice. The extra sleep was fantastic.

After I sent out my letters I got to spend my day hanging out with Harry, being tutored by Remus, studying how to become an illegal animagus with Sirius since I did well in Transfiguration, trying new things with Tom, or lazing about. Then in the evenings I taught Tom piano and read a few chapters from a mystery book with him. 

It was a great summer. My favorite summer yet as Rosie. 

Come August 18th, 1994 it was time for the Quidditch Cup.

Personally, I didn’t  _ really  _ want to go but Harry, Sirius, and Remus were very hard to say no to. At least I could cross it off the bucket list. On that morning I got dressed in a mini skirt, blouse, and packed my bag with entertainment before meeting my family in the kitchen.

Sirius did a spit take of his coffee when he saw me, his spit-coffee landing on a disgusted Remus. “You are _ not  _ wearing that skirt.”

“Yes I am,” I dismissed. “See? Wearing it right now.”

“Go change into something else.”

“What, my birthday suit?”

“How about,” Remus said slowly as he wiped off the spit and coffee from his face, “she puts on some pants underneath?”

“How about no?” I interjected cheerfully. 

“It’s cold up in the stands, Rosie,” Remus pointed out. 

“I’ve gotten good at keeping myself warm with magic,” I said. Which was true. Tom’s magic was like having dry ice inside me. I had to learn to keep warm with my own magic otherwise I’d be a shivering mess. “Besides, all that tennis with Madame Willow has given me some nice legs. I want to enjoy them while I can.”

I patted my right thigh in approval. 

I never would have thought of myself as  _ cute  _ or  _ pretty  _ in my past life, but Lily and James were some crazy good looking people. I took care of myself in my current life with a healthy diet and exercise. 

I was finally an attractive person. I should cherish it while I could. 

_ “I feel pretty,”  _ I mused.

**_“You are,_ ** ” Tom politely replied.

_ Ah, shit didn’t mean for him to hear that. _

My cheeks reddened out of embarrassment from my slip up.  _ “Thanks, Tom. Although we both know I’m not as pretty as you.” _

**_“We’ll have to agree to disagree there, Rosie._ ** ”

_ “You’re too smooth, Tom. You’re gonna make me swoon. _ ”

**_“Compliments are all it takes?_ ** _ ” _

_ “Only if they’re from you,”  _ I teased. 

“Rosie, go change,” Sirius insisted.

“Nah.”

“If you don’t change, you can’t come with us,” Sirius said, trying to put his foot down.

“Okay,” I said, pouring myself a cup of tea from the pitcher. 

Harry had come into the kitchen, his wild hair even crazier. He stumbled in, blearily awake and grasping at the air for his cup. I poured him a cup of tea and he blurbed something in between  _ thanks  _ and  _ you’re welcome  _ so it came out as, “Thelcome.”

“Yep,” I responded to my sleepy twin. 

Sirius was gaping at me in disbelief. “What do you mean  _ okay _ ? That’s supposed to be a terrible incentive! Harry, help. Your sister won’t change.”

Harry took a long drink of tea before responding. “Rosie, go change or I’ll give everyone at school the pictures of you sleeping in your unicorn onesie among your unicorn collection.”

My eyes narrowed. “You  _ wouldn’t _ .”

Harry took another sip of his tea, looked me dead in the eye, and flatly said, “Wouldn’t I?”

I wagged my finger at him. “Traitor. Hope your victory tastes bitter.”

“Exactly how I like it,” he blithely muttered as I left to go change. 

Sirius cried out, “That’s our boy!”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

As it turned out the only thing Sirius deemed suitable after that were leggings, and an oversized sweater. I was pleasantly surprised I could pull the look off. I threw on my cloak, some comfortable walking shoes, then headed back down to meet everyone. 

We were going via Apparition, so we had to apparate a couple miles off from the camping grounds. Portkey might have gotten us closer, but it would be a hassle to coordinate with another group. 

The trek to the grounds was one made in silence. Harry was still waking up, my twin stumbling and bumping into me several times. I settled on holding his hand so he could walk with his eyes closed. 

When we finally broke through the forest we had to apparate to, we were presented with quite the sight. Hundreds and hundreds of tents were set up on a large field, each a different shape and color. There were whizzes of lights, childish screams of laughter, and all in all it looked like the early start of rave despite the fact it was barely six o’clock in the morning.

“I hate morning people,” Harry muttered, eyeing the energetic crowd with great disdain.

I squeezed his hand. “Except me, right?”

“It changes between love and hate every minute.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet.”

We checked in then headed over to our designated area to pitch our tent. Sirius had purchased a luxurious one that practically screamed Gryffindor. As the sole Slytherin I felt obligated to point that out and he smirked and said, “We’re a Gryffindor family, Rosie.”

“Don’t make me lose the leggings,” I threatened him.

“There’s a green blanket in my bag, devil child.”

I kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Paddy.”

“Merlin, watch over the poor fool who falls in love with you,” Sirius sighed.

“Does that mean you won’t try to threaten the first person I date?” I questioned.

“You’d hurt them far more than I ever could. I’m very proud of you.”

I giggled. “How kind of you. Does this mean I can give the talk to Harry’s first girlfriend and or boyfriend?”

“Merlin, _ no _ ,” Harry bemoaned, burying his face in his hands. “Please,  _ no _ .”

“How about we do it together?” Sirius offered.

“ _ Please stop. _ ”

“It’ll be a great family experience,” I agreed. 

“Uncle Moony, help.”

Remus looked at Harry, looked at me and Sirius, then offered Harry an apologetic smile. “I’m sure it won’t be so bad.”

Once the tent was set up they had Kreacher and Dobby bring over snacks to tide us over for lunch. Sirius and Harry headed to hang out at the Weasley tent, while Remus and I stayed at our tent. Remus because he wanted to get a nap in before the game started, and I because Tom and I had ended in a chapter on a huge cliff hanger last night. We simply could not wait any longer to find out who exactly murdered the prince of Ashabul and framed the Duchess of Tirial for it. 

Tragically the book ended in a cliffhanger which meant as soon as we finished that by lunch we had to start up on the second one. 

As the day went on and night approached the hype rose to an insane level. I had dragged a chair out of the tent to see the chaos of it all. 

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes—green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria—which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

Once night had fallen it was time to grab our seats at the stadium. Sirius went all out that year, nabbing us some top box seats. The Weasley’s had already gotten to the top before us. 

The box filled gradually around us over the next half hour. Arthur shook hands with a lot of wizards who came by, and Percy jumped to his feet so often he had turned red from being out of breath. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat. It was my first time meeting Fudge and the man was eager to introduce himself to me and Harry. 

_ Enjoy your job while you can, moron,  _ I privately thought. 

“... such a pleasure to meet you,” Fudge went on. “Ah! And here’s Lucius!”

Coming up right behind him was the Malfoy family. I cheerfully waved at Draco who gave me a small wave back. 

“Ah, Fudge,” said Lucius, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. “How are you? I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?”

“How do you do, how do you do?” said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Narcissa. “And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk—Obalonsk—Mr.—well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can’t understand a word I’m saying anyway, so never mind. And let’s see who else—you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?” 

It was a tense moment. Arthur and Lucius looked at each other. Lucius’s cold gray eyes swept over Arthur, and then up and down the row.

“Good lord, Arthur,” he said softly. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

Fudge, who wasn’t listening, said, “Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He’s here as my guest.”

“How—how nice,” said Arthur, with a very strained smile.

“Come sit by me Draco,” I said, patting the empty seat beside me. I knew the Malfoys were coming up, so I took a seat behind Sirius where there were three empty seats. 

Draco glanced up at his parents. Narcissa nodded her head in approval and the youngest Malfoy took a seat beside me. 

“Finish your homework?” Draco asked.

“Amazingly, yes.”

In the next moment, the man I could only assume was Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

“Everyone ready?” he said, his round face gleaming with excitement. “Minister—ready to go?”

“Ready when you are, Ludo,” said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said “ _ Sonorus _ !” and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message ( _ Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans — A Risk with Every Mouthful! _ ) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

The Quidditch Cup was very similar to attending the FIFA Cup or Super Bowl or whatever. Loud, energetic,  _ sports _ .

Been to one, been to them all. 

It was more interesting to watch the veela and leprechaun mascots taunting one another before all out war broke between them and the veela had to be forcibly removed. 

The Irish won, but Viktor Krum still caught the snitch. 

We—Sirius, Remus, Harry, and I—were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to our campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward us in the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When we finally reached the tents, the boys didn’t feel like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around us, Sirius thought it would be best if we had a cup of tea before bed.

I flopped over in Harry’s bed—the beds were all on the outskirts of the large tent with only a drape to give privacy. Harry sat on his bed, taking care not to spill his tea. I was perfectly ready to go to sleep already, though. I closed my eyes, curling up against my twin for warmth as he and Sirius argued about one of the beater plays. 

With ease, I drifted off into a comfortable slumber.

I was awoken by the first scream. Harry was snoring beside me, draped over me and using me as a pillow. I carefully pushed myself up, not wanting to needlessly wake Harry. Across the room I could see Remus had also woken up from the scream, immediately alert and grabbing for his wand. We exchanged glances. He mimed at me to stay quiet and stay put. 

Remus hopped out of his bed, exiting the tent. Another scream tore through the ear, distant but still distinct. Remus hurried back in, “Get Harry up, Rosie! We’re leaving.”

I shook Harry awake as Remus woke Sirius up by pinching his nose shut.

“BLOODY HELL!” Sirius exclaimed, abruptly sitting up to gasp for air.

“We need to get the kids out of here,” Remus told him shortly.

“S’matter?” Harry mumbled, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. 

“Get dressed, we need to move,” I told him, hopping out of bed and pulling a cloak over myself. Harry was slow moving, but I got him to put his shoes back on and threw a cloak over him. Remus grabbed us both as Sirius headed out the tent first, wand drawn.

“Can you Apparate them both?” Sirius asked from outside. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, becoming more alert after seeing how tense Sirius and Remus were.

“Yes. Give me a moment,” Remus said, furrowing his brow. “Both of you hold tight. I’m taking you home.”

“What’s going on?” Harry pressed. 

Remus did not answer, instead he Apparated us both home. He sternly told us to stay put, and he and Sirius would be back when they could. Then he left.

“Welp,” I said. “Wanna watch a movie while we wait for them?”

“I guess. An answer would have been nice.”

“Probably just some idiots acting dumb,” I answered. “I’m sure we’ll hear  _ all  _ about it when they get back.”

We huddled together on the couch under thick blankets while Dobby and Kreacher brought us cups of tea. We finished the first movie, and were a quarter way through the next when Sirius and Remus returned, both tired.

“So…” Harry drawled out, raising an eyebrow. “Anyone want to explain what’s going on now?”

“Death Eaters decided to target a Muggle family and make a show of them. Nearly killed the child. Get to bed you two, I’m sure it’ll be in the papers tomorrow morning.”

Harry wanted to hear the details, but I was more than happy to go to bed. 

_ “That’s literally disgusting. Any grown ass adult that tries to harm a child for shits and giggles is less than deplorable. _ ”

Tom was wise not to defend the Death Eaters. His magic shifted uncomfortably.

_ “Would you torture a child, Tom? _ ”

**_“I do not see myself doing such without very good reason,”_ ** Tom carefully responded.

_ “Would you do it simply because the child is a Muggle? _ ” 

**_“No,_ ** **”** said Tom after a moment of consideration. 

_ “How come?”  _ I asked after I sensed that he was honest in his response. 

**_“It would not be entertaining,_ ** ” he answered.  **_“I do not take pleasure in harming young children._ ** ”

_ That’s good,  _ I thought.  _ Okay. Glad to see Tom isn’t inherently sadistic.  _

_ “Would you do it for a dark ritual? _ ”

Tom’s magic twinged, a clear sign that he didn’t want to answer me. I felt confident to assume that would be a solid yes. 

_ So harming children for the sake of magic is okay in his books, just not for the sake of doing it,  _ I thought. Personally, I didn’t think I could stomach such a process, but over the years I had adapted a very an “ends justifies the means” mindset. If I needed to seriously hurt anyone—regardless of age or gender—in order to achieve my goals I would do so. 

If I needed to sacrifice a child to perfect the lycanthrope curse for all werewolves—

I honestly couldn’t outright say I wouldn’t. Sometimes science had to take some deplorable—by society’s standards—to make advancements for the sake of humanity. Human dissection was considered evil and disgusting when originally introduced, but it later led to many lives being saved. Drug trials were a prime example—they could work, or they could lead to a painful death for the patient. There was no way to  _ guarantee _ , and sometimes sacrifices were a cold necessity. 

I was  _ by no means  _ saying I had any sort of moral high grounds. I would never claim to be morally just, or anything close to a hero. I was selfish. Never would I dare to say that because the werewolves were treated so terribly, I had the  _ right  _ to sacrifice someone in a dark ritual. It was not a right. It was not an entitlement.  _ Abuse did not justify abuse _ .

It only made it understandable, never,  _ ever  _ okay. 

But it was something I’d be open to do, and I accepted that about myself.

I was not a good person. 

I admitted my thoughts to Tom, and his magic curled around my own as if he had sighed in relief. 

**_“Yes, I feel the same,_ ** ” Tom quietly agreed.  **_“Such things should not be taken lightly, and the sacrifice should be honored. A hunter must use every piece taken with care.”_ **

_ “Surprisingly noble of you.” _

**_“Surprising? I would have thought you’d think less of me for being willing to go to such lengths at all.”_ **

_ “I can’t be one to judge. I am willing to do some rather extreme things for my own desires. Oh I can hypocritically claim high ground all I want, but at the end of the day I’m forcing my own viewpoints on others and condemning another’s.” _

Tom’s magic continued to curl and circle my own, gentle and cool.  **_“Now I have to admit I’m surprised by you._ ** ”

_ “I’m fully aware of my hypocrisy.”  _ I flopped back on my bed, preparing to enter my mind palace. “ _ I am a young, powerful, and intelligent witch. I can be whatever or whoever I want. I don’t need to be defined by the rules of the Light  _ or  _ Dark. I am perfectly comfortable claiming the values of Light while using the Dark tactics.” _

I slipped into my mind palace, appearing before Tom. He had been sitting at the edge of the black sea, a notebook and pen in his hands. He looked up at my arrival, setting the items aside as I took my seat beside him.

“You can be whoever you want to be, too,” I told him. “You don’t need to be Light or Dark.”

Tom had a thin smile, devoid of amusement. My words bothered him, as his magic started to twitch in agitation. I didn’t understand why my praise upset him, he had only ever accepted my compliments previously. 

“Is that right?”

“Sure it is. You are a brilliant wizard,” I confidently told him, still perplexed by the sharp increase of irritation from his magic. 

“Mn.” Tom looked back over the black sea, his expression unreadable. He was silent for several minutes as I sat beside him, his magic slowly cooling off into quiet, cold, anger. For the first time in two years, Tom Riddle did not put on a fake smile to hide his annoyance.

He was not the type to scowl, or raise his voice. Instead, he slipped on that angelic poker face to downplay his anger with me. His voice was tight, perfectly controlled to reflect a certain level of aggression as he asked, “What do you want?”

“In general?”

“What do you want  _ from me _ ?” sharply asked Tom, his dark gaze focused solely on the dark waves crashing against the shore. 

“Your friendship?” I asked, confused by his question. “What do you mean?”

“I cannot give you power. The knowledge I can give you is something you’re perfectly capable of obtaining yourself. I have no wealth. I have nothing to give you. I,” Tom gestured to himself, “am only a memory. Why would you want my friendship?”

_ Ah. _

Wow.

_ Our friendship is finally turning into something real! Woo-hoo! _

I couldn’t stop the giant grin on my face as I lurched forward and hugged Tom tightly.

The compliments I had previously given him were treated without much thought or care. I was simply a tool for him to manipulate. And over the years together that had slowly shifted into something more sincere. I would take it as a sign that he liked me enough as a person to value my opinion—or at least he respected me enough to do so. 

From that point his childhood traumas couldn’t be dismissed.

I didn’t know the gritty details of what it was like to grow up the way Tom did, but it wasn’t hard to infer. He grew up in an overly religious orphanage in the middle of a terrible war. He was ostracized, unwanted, and undoubtedly harassed. Even if there had been no physical abuse—which I highly doubted—the psychological torment inflicted upon him would have been terrible. 

Then he came to Hogwarts and was sorted in a House where family meant everything—and he had none.

No money, no power, no family. 

He had to provide something to gain followers. He had to buy their loyalties somehow.

He had no experience in forming friendships.

The only relationship he knew was domination against subservient. 

I was not subservient to him, nor did I try to dominate him.

He didn’t know how to handle me and my compliments must have been a trigger for him. Compliments were a common way to manipulate others, after all. Perhaps he thought I was trying to manipulate him. 

Therefore: our relationship was sincere enough to him that the idea of me trying to manipulate him angered him.

I couldn’t be happier!

Tom was stiff and uncomfortable under my hug. 

“Just you,” I told him with all the warmth and sincerity I could give him. I shared with him my utter delight, my magic joyfully wrapping around his own in a bright embrace. “Tom, I am well and truly happy being your friend. I like you. You’re not a memory to me—you’re Tom. You are my dear, dear friend.”

His magic was recoiled away from my mine, tight, uncomfortable, and yet—

—it started to feel a little bit warmer.

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all ready for year 4? :) 
> 
> **Answer:** Fox. 
> 
> **Question:** How do you exclaim you’re happy? Do you use woo hoo / yee-haw / yeet / yeetus / yippee / etc?
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	28. Year 4 - 2

I read the  _ Daily Prophet  _ with Tom the following morning at breakfast.

**_“The… Death Eaters fled after the Dark Mark was used?_ ** ” Tom’s voice was laced with disdain.

_ “Yes. The Death Eaters smart enough to avoid Azkaban dropped Lord Voldemort like garbage when he was defeated.” _

**_“That means that the dimwitted ones are in Azkaban?”_ **

_ “Except Rookwood, who will either try to find Voldemort to revive him, or decided Voldemort wasn’t worth the trouble and left him like the rest of the Death Eaters. Almost feel sorry for Voldemort. He either has to deal with followers who would abandon him at a moment’s notice, or useless morons who can’t do anything without him. Must be lonely.” _

**_“Yes,_ ** ” Tom repeated hollowly.  **_“Lonely._ ** ”

“ _ Don’t worry, Tom. I won’t let Voldemort or Death Eaters hurt you,”  _ I assured him.

“ **_What if I—What if I become a Dark Lord?”_ **

“ _ Depends. Are  _ you  _ torturing babies for shits and giggles?” _

**_“No._ ** _ ” _

_ “Are you going to kill my family?” _

**_“No._ ** _ ” _

_ “I don’t see an issue here. Wait, you’re not against my werewolf army now are you?” _

**_“No, never._ ** _ ” _

_ “Then nothing would change. I’d be the same to you as I am now: your amazing best friend who adores you.” _

**_“Ah. We are_ ** **best** **_friends now, are we?”_ **

_ “Yep. It’s decided.” _

His magic moved as if he were chuckling, though he did not verbally respond.

“I’ll be purchasing your textbooks at Diagon Alley today, both of you need to stay at home for the foreseeable future,” Remus told us as he put on a cloak and headed to the floo. “You  _ can  _ visit the Weasley’s though.”

“Excellent. Going over to Ron’s,” Harry said, hopping up from his seat at breakfast.

“Don’t buy my dress robes,” I told Remus.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Do you want me to grab you a couple catalogs?”

“No, Daphne will send over some things.”

“Daphne Greengrass?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need more allowance money for it?” shrewdly asked Remus. 

“Probably,” I admitted. “I’ll ask Paddy when he’s up.”

“Why do you need so much money for a  _ dress _ ?” Harry asked, perplexed. 

I sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Asking that is like asking why a bride wants to feel like the most important person at her wedding.”

“But isn’t it the groom’s day too?”

“Ugh. Get out of here before I hex you.”

Harry wisely held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. Remus chuckled and took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Our network was set up as a one way to the public areas, so he’d have to Apparate back in. After I finished reading the paper I got comfortable on the living room floor and resumed training for my illegal animagus form. 

I got an hour into the meditation to find my form (I was betting occamy, Tom was betting fox, and Kreacher bet mamba) when Hedwig gracefully flew into the living room and dropped a load of letters onto my lap.

“Thank you,” I thanked her as she hooted and rested on her luxurious perch. Harry had purchased her a rather extravagant indoor mini house for her, similar to those over the top cat scratching posts. She was a very pampered owl.

_ Ah. There’s Daphne’s letter. Right on time, my dear. _

_ “Tom? Would you do me a favor?”  _ I asked him, as I pulled out the catalog Daphne had sent me with her weekly later.

**_“What?_ ** _ ” _

_ “Close your eyes and give me complete privacy for, oh, say, fifteen minutes?” _

**_“May I ask why?_ ** _ ” _

_ “I’m picking out and likely doing small changes to my Yule dress. I don’t want you to see it until I put it on myself. Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?” _

**_“I will give you privacy,”_ ** Tom assured me. 

I counted to fifteen before I opened the catalog and got to work.

I ended up needing to ask for another five minutes of privacy as I had to convince Sirius to buy the dress. 

Threats may or may not have been involved in that conversation. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Returning to Hogwarts was a wet affair. It had been raining non stop the day of. Even with umbrellas, it didn’t help much. Draco showed off a bit by conjuring a big enough umbrella for Daphne and me to share, which was nice, but it didn’t stop our shoes from getting soaked.

When we entered the Great Hall and headed to our table Draco casually asked, “Everyone already knows about the Yule Ball, correct?”

“Yep,” Theodore answered. “Father bought me several dress robes to coordinate with whoever I end up taking.”

“Likewise,” Draco said, nodding in approval. 

“I ended up just purchasing a matching tie and ribbon. I’ll give one of them to my date if anyone’s brave enough to ask,” I said dismissively. 

“Regarding that—” Draco began, but he was interrupted by Pansy eagerly plopping down next to me at the table and squealing, “Did you get the dress Daphne picked out for you?”

“Very close to it,” I said with a smile. “Small changes had to be made.”

Daphne nodded approvingly. “Did you go with the suggestions I made?”

“I did, actually! When I take over the world I’ll need your fashion tastes to make sure I look impressive during all my speeches.”

Daphne giggled. “If you insist. Although it was Tracey who found the color.”

“Impeccable tastes, both of you.”

Draco cleared his throat, shifting closer to me. “So what color did you choose?”

“I can’t say it out loud. My future date might overhear, and I would like him or her to be utterly astounded when he or she sees me.”

Nothing could be said, though, as it was time for the Sorting and then time to eat. 

Everyone had ravenous intent for several minutes. There was little chatter as people ate up what they could as quickly as possible. Only when the puddings had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, did Albus Dumbledore get to his feet. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

“So!” said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. “Now that we are all fed and watered I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.”

The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched. He continued, “As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

The Slytherins already nodded at such, no one in the House of Snakes had come to Hogwarts unprepared. That being said, many of the students in the other houses let out cries of indignation. 

Dumbledore went on, “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—”

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers’ table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling.

Mad-Eye Moody.

Very likely Barty Crouch Jr disguised as Mad-Eye Moody.

Considering how I had witnessed the Power of Plot, and the Death Mark still happened, I’d bet all my galleons that it was Barty Crouch Jr.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.”

No one applauded him.

I had no plans to stop the resurrection of Voldemort. 

He was  _ such  _ a juicy bait to use.

Those that would stand in the way of  _ my  _ vision would scurry away. He’d release the Death Eaters I couldn’t touch in Azkaban and give me an easy excuse to end them myself. He’d become a tool in my political movement and I’d use him to shove Fudge out of office and take those Dark seats with him. 

In one fell swoop I’d get rid of everyone… all thanks to the lovely little bait Voldemort made.

Well. 

And I kinda had to acknowledge that the Power of Plot was hard to deal with. Better to take advantage of the situation out of my control than waste energy fighting against it. 

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“As I was saying,” he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar—”

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

“Er—but maybe this is not the time... no,” said Dumbledore, “where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament... well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “none of which has been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

“The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

At every House table people were either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen years or older—will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This,” Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words,“is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.” 

His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over some of the mutinous faces of the younger students. “I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!”

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

“Age restriction or not,” I loudly told my babeh snakes, “ _ I’m getting in. _ And I am  _ going  _ to be picked.”

**_“You wish to participate in the tournament?_ ** _ ” _

_ “Yep. I’m going to win it.” _

Tom was silent for a couple of minutes before he quietly said, “ **_You very well might._ ** ” 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**(Extra - Harry)**

Harry Potter listened carefully to Dumbledore’s explanation for the Triwizard Cup. It sounded daring, dashing, and dangerous. He had read a stupendous amount of story arcs involving tournaments. He hadn’t expected to see such a fantasy coming to life before his very eyes. 

Not that it spurred any great desire of his. Harry used to dream of being the hero to his own story, but he had come to appreciate the serenity found in his normal day-to-day life.

Normal at Hogwarts, at least.

Home, he had learned after attending Hogwarts, was  _ not  _ normal. 

Largely thanks to his godfather and twin sister.

Mostly his twin sister.

90% of it because of his twin sister.

Not many brothers had sisters who habitually snuck out at night when their guardian slept, or knew how to build EMPs, or was alarmingly comfortable with certain spells, or could build and dismantle several dozen traps in a matter of minutes. 

Well, Harry supposed the Weasley twins could match her in some of that regard. But the ginger twins always had a warmth to their antics. None of it could be gleaned as malicious, or mean-spirited. 

Rosie—

If Harry  _ had  _ to define his sister in a story, she’d be the morally ambiguous side character who could provide the hero with all manner of items—so long as the hero didn’t question how she got them.

Harry loved his sister, and he found her chaos endearing in its own way, but he’d much rather stay on the sidelines and enjoy watching her than get caught up in her… schemes.

Sirius got caught up in her schemes once.

_ Once _ . 

She only needed one successful scheme to end the prank war for the retired marauder. Those little back and forth pranks were merely the warm up to the bomb she had waiting for him.

“... And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!”

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

“They can’t do that!” said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. “We’re seventeen in April, why can’t we have a shot?”

“They’re not stopping me entering,” said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. “The champions’ll get to do all sorts of stuff you’d never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!”

“Yeah,” said Ron, a faraway look on his face. “Yeah, a thousand Galleons…”

“Come on,” said Hermione, “we’ll be the only ones left here if you don’t move.”

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George set off for the entrance hall, Fred and George debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament. Harry and Hermione lingered behind for another moment, scanning the hall for Neville.

They hadn’t seen their other friend for a while. He sat with them on the train, but had to use the restroom before the feast and they hadn’t seen him since. Normally Neville knew better than to drink on the train, but Harry had brought some special hot chocolate in a thermos Remus made for him and he wanted to share with his friends. 

_ Neville would make a good hero,  _ thought Harry. Neville was shy, but he had undergone a steady character growth. No longer did the Longbottom heir cower behind Harry and Hermione, he stood proudly beside them. Neville had a soft, calm, and steady way of speaking that reminded Harry of Remus. 

Neville had certainly gained more muscle than Harry, too. Harry and Rosie shared a similarly small build—no matter how much they exercised or ate, they wouldn’t bulk up. It made it easier for Harry as a seeker, but he certainly fell short of the hero archetype. 

Neville had grown taller already, though, and had nice and broad shoulders. 

Yes. Harry thought Neville would make an excellent hero. Harry would be great at supporting the hero. He could give out friendly advice and be moral support. 

Hermione and Harry didn’t spot Neville though, and were forced to march on. 

“Who’d be the impartial judge anyway?” absently asked Harry as he kept looking for his friend.

“Dunno,” said Fred, “but it’s them we’ll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George.” 

“Dumbledore knows you’re not of age, though,” said Ron.

“Yeah, but he’s not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?” said Fred shrewdly. “Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he’ll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore’s trying to stop us giving our names.”

“People have died, though!” said Hermione in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

“Yeah,” said Fred airily, “but that was years ago, wasn’t it? Anyway, where’s the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get ’round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?”

“What d’you reckon?” Ron asked Harry. “Be cool to enter, wouldn’t it? But I s’pose they might want someone older… Dunno if we’ve learned enough.”

“Hard pass on my end,” said Harry to Hermione’s approving nod. “Maybe if we knew what the tasks were beforehand and could prepare.”

“Kinda defeat the purpose yeah? Supposed to be brave about it,” said George.

Hermione snorted derisively. “It’s not cowardly to want to be prepared.” 

“That’s common sense,” agreed Harry. “Anyway, I don’t see anyone getting past Dumbledore—er—”

Harry had a sudden surge of concern. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he had an unmistakable desire to snatch up Rosie and take them both back home.

_ I really hope my twin senses are off,  _ he thought.  _ Uncle Moony will  _ kill  _ her.  _

They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress. 

“Password?” she said as they approached. 

“Balderdash,” said George, “a prefect downstairs told me.”

The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables.

Surprisingly, Neville was in one of those armchairs, dazed and staring at the flames.

Hermione was the first at his side. “Neville, where did you go?”

“I—I got lost,” he said to no one’s surprise.

_ A good hero always has a terrible sense of direction,  _ thought Harry as he smiled at his friend. Another mark against Harry being a hero because Harry had an  _ excellent  _ sense of direction. It was why he was such a fantastic Seeker. That and pure talent. 

“Only you could still get lost at Hogwarts,” chuckled Harry. “C’mon, let’s get to bed.”

“I found someone,” whispered Neville. “I think I’m in love.”

“Oh dear,” said Hermione. “Are you okay, Neville? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“She sang to me,” said Neville. “About herbs.”

“A mystery girl who sings about plants,” said George with both of his eyebrows raised up. 

“What a catch,” deadpanned Fred.

Harry and Hermione placed their hands on either side of Neville’s cheeks. He didn’t feel feverish, but—

Neville’s cheeks flushed. “Shut it. I—I may not—or maybe—I—maybe not  _ love _ , but—er—did I miss anything at the feast?”

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. “A bit mate, come on.”

Ron and Harry filled Neville in on what happened at the feast as they climbed up the spiral staircase to their dorms. Neville was astonished about such an event happening, but he was quick to say he wouldn’t be trying it out himself.

He said as he climbed into bed, “I know Gran would want me to, but I don’t think I could survive something  _ that  _ dangerous.”

“I might go in for it, you know,” Ron said sleepily through the darkness, “if Fred and George find out how to… the tournament… you never know, do you?”

“S’pose not,” allowed Harry. “Don’t think you should, though.” 

“Swear Hermione should be your other twin…”

Harry tried to picture Hermione staying with them over the summer and witnessing the antics Rosie got up to.

No way would Hermione keep quiet about Rosie sneaking out. 

That was Harry’s secret to keep, along with all the other little things she shared with him over the years. All the times she sung to him in her off-key voice when he had a bad dream, or took the blame for when he broke things, or when she stayed up late taking care of a hungover Sirius, or how she sometimes talked to herself when she thought no one was around, or how she complained about unicorns but lovingly kept every single one given to her. 

Harry even knew the names she’d given some of them.

They were secrets for Harry to keep. 

“Nah,” he said, thinking fondly of his sister. It brought a sleepy smile to his face as he laid in bed and closed his eyes. “Rosie will always be my favorite.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**(Rosie)**

Classes were as lovely as last year, except for Hagrid’s class. 

Last year we got to see all sorts of charming creatures like hippogriffs, griffins, manticores, and an assortment of smaller creatures that Hagrid had found out in the forest. He had mentioned he hoped to get a hold of a couple chimeras to add. His classes had rapidly become a favorite for many students because of the animals he procured—none of them were dull. He was building quite the menagerie outside his hut, too. 

The Slytherins made the trek out to the class, Iris darting about between the students as she stretched her wings. All the babeh snakes were fond of Iris, offering her treats and head scratches when able. 

As we neared the scent of rotting fish assaulted our noses. I reflexively wrinkled up my nose, wondering what was causing such a thing until I saw the crates.

_ Oh, no. I forgot about those things. _

The Blasted-End Skewets. 

“Ew,” I whispered as I saw the hideously squishy monstrosity. A cross between a centipede, scorpions, and manticore. Ugh. All fleshy squishy yuckiness with too many legs flailing around. Ugh. Ugh.  _ Ugh _ .

I covered the lower half of my face, cringing as I stared at them. 

Human cadavers I could work with fine and dandy. There was a neatness to human anatomy. The things that squirmed in those crates were nothing but grotesque. They could have been a product of Lovecraft with how hideous they were. 

Ugh, scratch that. Cthulhu was probably cuter than those things. 

I pulled Draco in front of me to shield that hideous view.

“On’y jus’ hatched,” said Hagrid proudly, “so yeh’ll be able ter raise ’em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit of a project of it!”

“And why would we want to raise them?” asked Draco coldly, placing a consoling arm around me. 

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

“I mean, what do they do?” pressed a disgusted Draco. “What is the point of them?”

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds’ pause, then he said roughly, “Tha’s next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus’ feedin’ ’em today. Now, yeh’ll wan’ ter try ’em on a few diff’rent things—I’ve never had ’em before, not sure what they’ll go fer—I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ a bit o’ grass snake—just try ’em out with a bit of each.”

It was a testament to how much Harry, Neville, and Hermione liked Hagrid as the three were the first students to try and offer frog liver to the babies.

Even though the babies didn’t even have heads, let alone mouths.

**_“Those are literally the single most disgusting things I have ever seen,_ ** ” Tom told me.

_ “I don’t wanna look at them, let alone feed them. Ew, ew, ew. _ ”

I buried my face into Draco’s shoulder, not wanting to look at those nasty things. Draco patted my back, and I could feel a couple of my other babeh snakes pat me too. 

“Ouch!” yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. “It got me!”

Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.

“Its end exploded!” said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.

“Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off,” said Hagrid, nodding.

“Eurgh!” said Lavender Brown again. “Eurgh, Hagrid, what’s that pointy thing on it?”

“Ah, some of ’em have got stings,” said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). “I reckon they’re the males.... The females’ve got sorta sucker things on their bellies.... I think they might be ter suck blood.”

“Well, I can certainly see why we’re trying to keep them alive,” snarked Draco. “Who wouldn’t want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?”

The Slytherins were thoroughly disgusted and none of them wanted to try to feed them. Scrounging up what courage I had, I swallowed back my breakfast and stepped away from my shield to approach Hagrid. 

“Professor Hagrid, would it be possible to, ah…” I struggled to come up with something. “Oh! Would it be possible to go see the hippogriffs again? As a, uh, refresher of course. We have O.W.L.s next year, you know.”

“Oh, yes, we definitely want to be prepared for that,” Theodore quickly stepped in agreeably.

“Well… s’pose it wouldn’t ‘urt,” Hagrid said after a moment, struggling not to grin at being called professor. He always loved it when a student called him professor. 

The Slytherins and a handful of Gryffindors fled the gross mess and made a dash toward the hippogriff pen. 

The next notable class was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Barty Crouch Jr posing as Mad-Eye Moody.

I took a seat up front with Daphne. The DADA class hadn’t changed much since Remus set it up last year. 

“You can put those away,” Mad-Eye growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”

The Slytherins that had taken out their books began to put them away. 

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

“Right then,” he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures—you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“But you’re behind—very behind—on dealing with curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark Arts. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you counter curses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to keep your familiar out of my classroom, Miss Potter.”

Iris trilled in offense before leaving my pocket and flying out of the room. 

“So... do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by Wizarding law?”

Several hands rose up. Moody gestured to Blaise who said, “Imperius.”

“That’s one.” Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, “ _ Imperio _ !”

The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing except Moody and myself.

_ Easy date rape,  _ I thought, a ghost of a memory from my past life unwillingly whispering to me. My first night shadowing happened to land when another uni was having their spring break. The look in their eyes—

My hands curled into fists.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”

The laughter died away almost instantly.

“Total control,” said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats... “Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody, his gaze fixated on an uncomfortable Draco. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

“Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

Hands went up. Moody called on Theodore who said, “Cruciatus.”

“The Cruciatus Curse,” said Moody. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at the spider. “ _ Engorgio _ !”

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody’s desk as possible.

Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, “ _ Crucio _ !”

At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. Crouch as Moody tortured it for another minute, the Slytherins watching with uncomfortable apathy. 

Moody raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

“ _ Reducio _ ,” Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar. “Pain,” said Moody softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse.... That one was very popular once too. “Right... does anyone know any others?”

Hands were raised, and he called on Draco who said, “Avada Kedavra.”

“Ah,” said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra... the Killing Curse.”

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody’s fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

“ _ Avada Kedavra! _ ” Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air—instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no magical shield to block it. Only two known people have ever survived it, and one is sitting right in front of me.”

_ No,  _ I thought.

The curse never hit me, after all. It hit Lily who had jumped in front of us.

I looked away from the dead spider, the image of Lily’s corpse lingering in my head.

“Avada Kedavra is a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it—you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it.

“Now, if there’s no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you’ve got to know. You’ve got to appreciate what the worst is. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

“Now... those three curses—Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus—are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against. That’s what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills... copy this down—”

The snakes were silent as they did so. 

Honestly, after a class like that, spending the evening reading medical textbooks and explaining human anatomy to Tom was as delightful as curling up with Harry on the couch at home and binge eating a tub of ice cream with him. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

  1. Get a really pretty dress for the Yule Ball.



**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few Harry scenes will be sprinkled throughout the story from year 4 and on.
> 
>  **Answer** : Yeehaw. It started as ironic. And then it stopped being ironic.
> 
>  **Question** : What would be a delightful evening for you (fantasy world or this world)?
> 
> Reviews are **love**! 


	29. Year 4 - 3

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Everything was semi-normal for the next couple of weeks at Hogwarts. Hagrid seemed to catch on that a lot of the students were thoroughly grossed out by the abomination he had bred together, and offered that a couple of students could help out by mucking out some other animal pens.

If it was a choice between cleaning up griffin shit or feeding those balls of yuckiness I took the shit every time.

The other classes weren’t getting easier, either. Runes homework took up a lot of my free time, and the other classes weren’t holding back in handing out assignments. Even my favorite—Potions—was getting a hassle with the amount of essays on antidotes Professor Snape was demanding. 

I was a hardworking genius at Potions, but that didn’t stop my hand from cramping writing out everything requested. I barely had time for my self-studies in spellcrafting and rudimentary rituals (basically vanilla rituals since I couldn’t be caught learning about the heavy-duty rituals at Hogwarts). 

At least Tom was having fun while I did classes. He had been devouring what medical knowledge I knew with rabid fascination. He started asking if I could check out alchemy textbooks and peruse through them so he could have the memories. I wasn’t sure how exactly that worked—maybe Tom figured out a way to capture memories in my mind palace like a photograph? Checking out and flipping through the public texts on alchemy ate up the last bit of my little time I had outside of work. It made Tom happy though, so I wasn’t complaining. 

All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work we were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.

“You are now entering the most important phase of your magical education!” she told us, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. “Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer and you  _ need  _ to be prepared.”

And then came Moody’s announcement that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of us in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

No one wanted that at all, but Moody didn’t care.

_ “I don’t suppose using occlumency will help me resist it?”  _ I uneasily asked Tom.

**_“Actually, yes. If you prepare your defenses enough._** **_Although with me here I don’t know what will happen._** ”

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. It was uncomfortable to watch, and I was dreading it when it was my turn. 

“Potter,” Moody growled, “you next.”

I gingerly stepped up to the front, doing my best to prepare my shields as Moody raised his wand and cast the spell.

_ “OW! _ ”

It wasn’t pleasant at all like the books described, it felt like someone took a sledgehammer to my head then set off a series of bombs. 

And then—

_ “Huh.” _

**_“Huh._ ** _ ” _

I was perfectly safe inside my mind palace, but somehow while under the Imperius—I could still feel it trying to assault me—Tom had taken control over my body.

**_“So… the Imperius forces a change between the possessor and possessed?_** **_Fascinating_** _.”_

_ “I wonder why.” _

**_“Hard to say. It could also be the result of your unique form of occlumency.”_ **

Either way, Tom was in control of my body while Moody kept trying to cast the spell. He didn’t do much, just stand there and coldly stare at Moody. We could both hear the command to jump onto the desk, but neither of us felt compelled to do it.

A couple of minutes passed and the assault stopped, abruptly giving me control back over my body. 

“That was weird,” I muttered out loud. 

“Now, that’s more like it!” growled Moody’s voice, “Look at that, you lot! Potter fought and beat it. We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention—watch her eyes, that’s where you see it—very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you!”

It was a very long class. We both found it irritating to be jerked back and forth in control. Tom theorized the Imperius Curse could only control one soul at a time, and so when a body held two souls it forced whichever soul it was trying to control into a submissive state. Interesting.

Personally, I had always assumed the Imperius took control over the nervous system and could somehow dissociate the subconscious mind from the conscious mind. The idea that it instead controlled one’s soul was rather alarming.

Of course those were simply theories. It would be hard to test the extent of the Imperius Curse while attending Hogwarts.

I was rather glad I did not experience it the same as canonical. I remembered Harry described it as a dreamy state which I correlated to being severely dissociated. 

I had plenty of experiences dealing with that in my previous life. I did not savor the thought of going through anything similar again. Even if it was described as “pleasant” it still forcibly altered the state of my mind and ripped away my emotions. No thanks. 

Life went on. 

I was tragically forced to wake up before dawn in order to get my necessary time with Madame Willow in our ongoing tennis tournament. Not all the babeh snakes were ready to dedicate their exercise on top of their workload—Blaise and Pansy dropped out—but those that remained did their best. 

The castle was in overdrive as people prepared to welcome the new schools on October 30th. The House Elves cleaned every nook and cranny, the professors were stricter than normal, and all any of the students ever talked about was the tournament.

When we went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, we found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers’ table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

The whole day was highly disruptive for classes, as none of the students could invest themselves. It was clear all they could think about was the arrival of the other schools. 

When it was finally time to meet the delegations the students were lined up outside in the chilly air. Daphne, Tracey, and I huddled together in the sharp cold winds that blew through the courtyard. 

We must have waited fifteen minutes for Beauxbatons to arrive—and yes, they were all very pretty—and another twenty for Durmstrang to arrive—and yes, there were fangirls and fanboys squealing when everyone saw Krum.

The Hogwarts students were finally allowed back inside the warmth after what felt like for-friggin-ever. We followed behind the Durmstrang party, and I could hear the excited chatter of the students about Viktor Krum. 

Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked, a few of them bumping into us. 

“Oh I don’t believe it, I haven’t got a single quill on me—”

“D’you think he’d sign my hat in lipstick?”

“Oh,  _ Merlin _ ,” I groaned in annoyance, rubbing my forehead.

**_“Not a fan of the celebrity?_ ** ” Tom teased.

_ “How could I possibly be a fan of Krum when I have  _ you _?” _

**_“I’m not a celebrity,_ ** _ ”  _ Tom pointed out.

_ “Celebrities have net worth, you’re priceless, _ ” I flirted.

Tom snorted, trying to cover up his laughter.

“ _ Aww, come on I thought that was smooth, _ ” I joked, struggling not to laugh with him. I couldn’t stop the silly grin on my face. 

He actually did softly chuckle at that. It was beautiful. I wished I could save that as an alarm clock ringtone, I’d always wake up in a good mood if I got to hear that. Not quite the hearty laugh I was after, but progress!

The Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table, and Draco wasted little to no time in hurrying over to Krum’s side and striking up a conversation.

“ **_Malfoys have always been quick to make connections,_ ** ” Tom observed.

_ “Known a Malfoy or two?” _

**_“I’ve met a couple._ ** ”

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore’s left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” said Dumbledore. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

He sat down, the plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than I had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood red.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now.

“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket. Let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemus Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation”—there was a smattering of polite applause—“and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand.

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

At the mention of the word “champions,” the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways ... their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

“ **The Goblet of Fire** ?” Tom sounded oddly thrilled. “ **_I’ve searched—I mean, I have done research for that artifact when I was in Hogwarts, but it disappeared after the last tournament._ ** _ ” _

_ “Want it?” _

**_“Are you offering to steal it for me?_ ** _ ”  _ Tom was amused.

“ _ Maaaaaybe.” _

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,” said Dumbledore, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

_ “Tom, if you wanted to sneak in your name into the Cup to become the Hogwarts champion, how would you do it?”  _

From the subtle swirl in Tom’s magic I could feel him thoughtfully considering the question. He was silent for several minutes.

**_“You mean for you? I would create a hole in the age line around the Cup.”_ **

_ “You wouldn’t assault the Cup?” _

**_“If I needed to enter the tournament no matter what I would first make an opening the age line, then I would Confound the Cup into believing there should be four schools. While Confounded I would add the fourth school legitimately to it, then I would enter my name under that school. The Cup, if I recall correctly, is tied to school records. It would be confused to see my name in Hogwarts and in the fourth school, but with only I entering under the fourth school it would have little choice but to include me.”_ **

_ “If the Cup checks against school records then wouldn’t it spit me out when it saw I was underage?” _

**_“If the Cup were to discern from age it would do it based on when it was originally made, not the modern definition of adulthood. Being of age when the Cup was made would have been…. Twelve? You are old enough that the Cup would not reject you. It is the age line that Dumbledore added that you should be concerned about. At a glance, I would conclude that the line is tied to the magical fire in the Cup. If the line notices an underage witch or wizard inside the fire it will pull it out before the Cup can accept it. You must create a hole in the line to slip your name in and keep it open long enough for the Cup to accept it.”_ **

_ “That’s rather clever. I’m surprised you know so much about the Cup already.” _

**_“It’s an item I have been wanting to personally examine for a while,”_ ** Tom admitted. “ **_Its magical contracts are unbreakable. I would like to be able to replicate the feat.”_ **

That made sense. He didn’t want his followers to abandon him.

**_“Rosie, I have been giving some thought to your desire to compete since you announced it. I know the Cup would choose you if given the chance, and I believe I can give you that chance.”_ **

_ “You think it’ll choose me?” _

**_“Your magic is… odd. There is a feeling to it that I cannot put into words. Ancient artifacts have proven to be drawn to unique powers, and there is no other student at Hogwarts who could compete with you on that front.”_ **

I was flattered. I sent him an image of me grinning at him, and I thought he smiled wanly in return.

**_“Are you interested?”_ **

_ “I’d love an honest chance to compete as Hogwarts champion.” _

**_“Then give me the opportunity to interact with the line for ten minutes without being seen.”_ **

_ “Consider it done. _ ”

The feast ended without much fuss, and I told the babeh snakes that I needed them to cover me for the night as I would sneak out and put my name in the Cup at three in the morning. 

I made sure to say it loudly enough that Barty Crouch Jr as Mad-Eye Moody would overhear it. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Tom and I stayed up trying out a new fantasy-mystery series. Time got away from us, but thankfully I had set my alarm at three in the morning in order to sneak out. The unicorn alarm clock—courtesy of Remus—neighed and whinnied to pull us out of the climatic reveal of the bad guy. Admittedly, we were a tempted to say fuck it and keep reading. 

Responsibility won out in the end, and I snuck out to the hall with my invisibility cloak. As predicted, there weren’t any students in the hall.

And even more predictably, Iris subtly signaled to me that she smelled someone else in the room. I didn’t want her to tip Tom off, either, after all. He’d ask why Mad-Eye was waiting for me, and why I wanted him to see me successfully enter my name into the Cup.

I couldn’t answer that easily, now could I?

**_“I will need some control.”_ **

Tom’s magic surged to my left hand, gently pulling for dominance over my magic. I changed my wand to my left hand and I gave him control.

Cold air poured over me when Tom took over. I watched as he moved my left hand with quick movements and whispered spells I could not understand. It was a detached feeling, very odd and uncomfortable. After five quick spells—each a different color—he tossed in my name then fired off a few more spells.

By the end of it, he released his control without fuss and I felt warm again.

We waited a few more minutes to make sure my name wasn’t spewed out. 

“Brilliant,” I laughed, turning on my heel and heading off to bed.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The following night when it was time for selection there were many anxious chatterings. The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Everyone was constantly craning their necks to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, each impatient to see the chosen champions.

I had to admit I was a touch nervous, too.

If I was selected as a champion, that meant that Harry would be saved from the horrors of facing the tournament unwillingly. I could protect my twin even longer from having to confront Voldemort, and hopefully, I could spare Cedric an untimely death. 

I wanted Voldemort as bait. If the Power of Plot was going to insist upon his resurrection, then  _ I  _ would be the one to take advantage of it.  _ I  _ would be the ultimate victor. 

It was a risk—I wasn’t so arrogant to assume otherwise—but it was necessary. I could not divulge my future knowledge, nor would I dare to allow my brother to compete when I was willing to make that sacrifice. 

Voldemort’s return was fated; if I couldn’t fight it, I would use it. 

Crouch would want me as the champion over Harry because I had actively sought to enter myself. It would draw less suspicion toward his plan to revive Voldemort.

And as far as he was concerned, I was as good a candidate as Harry. 

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber,” he indicated the door behind the staff table, “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, impatiently waiting.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. In the next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it—the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table, moving to Dumbledore. He turned right and walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!”

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

Fleur was as elegant and beautiful as described in the books. She bounded up front, her long silvery-hair swaying gracefully as she moved. 

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it.

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

Professor Dumbledore stared at the parchment, his expression stiff as a stone. He did not speak for a minute before he slowly said, “The Hogwarts champion is Rosaline Potter.”

The Slytherin table erupted into cheers, none of them unsurprised that I had somehow gotten past the age line. The other Houses stared at me in disbelief, Harry in particular seemed horrified. I hopped up from the bench, a big smile on my face as I skipped up.

“Hope you’re not too mad,” I told Dumbledore. 

“More curious how you got past the age line,” Dumbledore returned, piercing me with his pale blue gaze.

“How indeed?” I asked because I honestly had no clue how Tom did it. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring home the win for Hogwarts.”

Then I headed into the other room to meet the other champions.

Viktor and Fleur were grouped around the fire in the staff room, both turning to face me as I entered.

“Hello,” I politely greeted, extending a hand to Fleur first. “I’m Rosie Potter.”

“Fleur Delacour,” Fleur introduced herself, accepting my hand. “You do not look old enough.”

“I cheated,” I admitted to her cheerfully. “I suspect I’ll be getting detentions for the rest of the year.”

Viktor snorted. “How did you cheat?”

“How indeed?” I asked again, unable to answer their question. 

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He strode to stand next to me. “Extraordinary, Potter!”

“‘E cannot compete,” Fleur said contemptuously to Bagman. “‘E is too young.”

“Well it is amazing,” said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at me. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as her name’s come out of the goblet—I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage. It’s down in the rules, you’re obliged… ”

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. I could hear the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little girl is to compete also!”

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. “We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore. Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools.”

“It’s no one’s fault but Potter’s, Karkaroff,” said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. “Don’t go blaming Dumbledore for Potter’s determination to break rules. She is unmanageable.”

“Aww,” I cooed, putting a hand over my cheeks. “Shucks, thanks, Professor Snape.”

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Rosie?” Dumbledore asked calmly.

“Yep.”

“How?” he asked again.

“How indeed?” I said for the third time. 

**_“If I may,_ ** ” Tom smoothly interjected. It was clear that he was happy to have gotten the better of Professor Dumbledore if the jumpy smugness in his magic was anything to go by. Gosh if I didn’t know any better I’d say Tom got a bit of a high from out maneuvering Professor Dumbledore. He pushed for a bit of control and I relented.

“I went under,” Tom, as me, said. “You did not consider negative variables in the age counter. It could not register below zero, and so it became confused. It looped, and I took that opportunity to pry it open.”

“Ah,” said Dumbledore, realization flickering over his face. “That is rather ingenious of you.”

“Yes,” Tom agreed, extremely satisfied with himself.

“Mr. Crouch... Mr. Bagman,” said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, “you are our—er—objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?”

Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

“Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front,” said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, we have plenty of other talented younger students at Durmstrang. We deserve a wider selection. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

“But Karkaroff, it doesn’t work like that,” said Bagman. “The Goblet of Fire’s just gone out—it won’t reignite until the start of the next tournament—”

“—in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!” exploded Karkaroff. “After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!”

“Empty threat, Karkaroff,” growled Moody from the door. “You can’t leave your champion now. He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contracts, like Dumbledore said.”

Bagman looked positively excited.

“Well, shall we crack on, then?” he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. “Got to give our champions their instructions, haven’t we? Barty, want to do the honors?”

Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.

“Yes,” he said, “instructions. Yes... the first task… ”

“The first task is designed to test your daring,” he told me, Fleur, and Viktor, “so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... very important. “The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.”

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.

“I think that’s all, is it, Albus?”

“I think so,” said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?”

“No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry,” said Mr. Crouch. “It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment... I’ve left young Weatherby in charge... Very enthusiastic... a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."

“You’ll come and have a drink before you go, at least?” said Dumbledore.

“Come on, Barty, I’m staying!” said Bagman brightly. “It’s all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!”

“I think not, Ludo,” said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.

“Professor Karkaroff—Madame Maxime—a nightcap?” said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur’s shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. I could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence. The other professors filed out after them. 

Now only me, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Snape remained. I prepared myself for the first of many lectures to come. 

“To bed, Miss Potter,” said Professor Snape, his eyes glittering dangerously as a warning.

“Yes, sir.”

“Detention every Saturday, Miss Potter. For the rest of the year.”

“Yep. Expected that.”

“What the devil possessed you to do something so insanely stupid?” Professor Snape scolded me.

“Because,” I said, “if I’m chosen, Harry won’t be.”

“What do you mean?” Professor Dumbledore asked, his pale blue eyes assessing me.

“Just a hunch,” I said. “Better me than Harry.”

“A hunch like with what happened with the Philosopher’s Stone?” he gently asked me.

I smiled at him. “Spot on, Professor.”

The professors exchanged unreadable looks. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The Slytherins had thrown a party for me upon my return. There was food, music, and many cheers as they celebrated the fact that a Slytherin was chosen as the Hogwarts Champion.

“Long live the Slytherin Queen!” they cheered, a few of the older students tossing me up in the air.

They wanted to hear all about how I was able to sneak past the line, but I only ever answered with a smile and  _ How indeed?  _

The party lasted well into the night, only ending around four. Since I was going to get up in a couple of hours anyway I decided to power through. Tom had some more questions about the human nervous system so I tutored him for an hour, then we practiced the piano together for another hour. 

I say practiced, but we really goofed off trying to play different songs simultaneously on the same mental piano. 

Breakfast time came around and our house was still in a jolly good mood. I got many claps on the back and praises from my peers for my cunning and ability to outwit Dumbledore. 

Almost made up for the howler Remus sent me as I buttered my toast.

I was grounded for the foreseeable future.

Go me.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

  1. Enter the TriWizard tournament if it becomes available. If we enter it publicly and loudly enough they might not target Harry and Harry can be spared the trauma. 



**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Answer:**   
>  Cuddles with someone / something I adore, a good book, yummy drink and snacks, and some nice ambience in the background like a fire with rain outside. 
> 
> **Question:**  
>  Would you enter the tournament if you could? How would you react if you were forced into it like Harry?
> 
> Reviews are   
> **love**  
> ! 


	30. Year 4 - 4

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**(Sirius)**

Sirius Black sat across from Albus Dumbledore shortly after breakfast was served at Hogwarts. Sirius’s eyes roamed around Dumbledore’s office, pleasantly surprised to find it hadn’t changed too much since the last time he visited it. 

To be fair it hadn’t been that long since he stopped by last year to pick up books on ward construction.

_ Fawkes looking a little peckish,  _ observed Sirius. Sirius had the pleasure of seeing the phoenix be reborn once before, and he wondered if it would happen again soon. 

Dumbledore folded his hands together across his desk. “Thank you for coming in, Sirius.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” said Sirius. “Remus was getting hoarse from yelling.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, a silent question.

“He and the Weasley’s were over for dinner when we got Harry’s owl last night,” explained Sirius, thinking back on it. Harry had frantically sent Hedwig to tell the family that Rosie had snuck herself in the tournament. Remus nearly had a heart attack when Sirius read the letter out loud. After he and Molly panicked for a while they switched over to what Sirius could only describe as parental rage. It was quite the show. 

Sirius had laughed. It was such a James thing to do. He was so proud of how mischievous his goddaughter could be. Harry had too much of Lily’s good sense to take up the Marauder mantle. 

Rosie was clever, but she used her wits in the name of Glorious Chaos; Sirius could not be prouder. He wished she had attended Hogwarts with him and James, she would have been a delight to either prank with, or start a prank war against.

If only he could curb that budding malice inside her. While Rosie was an excellent schemer, however of her plans could be… vindictive. 

It wasn’t as if she were a cold or dangerous person. No, no. Rosie and Harry were both warm hearted kids. Kind in their own ways, even though both had a certain…  _ feel  _ to them. As far as Sirius was aware neither of his wards had done anything particularly heinous or dangerous, but it did not shake his instincts about them. They both had  _ potential _ . Rosie’s potential just seemed a more likely to come to fruition than Harry’s—a concern Sirius hadn’t been able to deal with yet. 

It was hard to describe exactly. If Sirius had to put the feeling into words he’d explain it like so: Rosie was the type of person who would purposefully lead someone she disliked to a werewolf attack; but unlike Sirius, it wouldn’t be because she wanted to scare them. It would be because she genuinely wanted to hurt them, or worse. 

He loved her, he really did, but Sirius Black could not deny that his goddaughter had some Dark in her. 

Being told she hoodwinked Dumbledore and stole the spotlight by entering the tournament… it was so absurdly delightful. Dangerous, reckless, and the definition of Gryffindor. Best of all, it was a scheme that didn’t involve hurting anyone else. It made Sirius grin when he read Harry’s letter before he burst out into laughter. 

Remus was not amused. Neither was Molly. Or Arthur.

For some reason  _ Sirius  _ was the one who got lectured last night, not Rosie. 

Dumbledore nodded at this, smiling. “They are aware of the situation, then?”

“Yeah. They aren’t happy. Remus wanted to come down himself, but I talked him out of it,” said Sirius. “He’s furious with Rosie right now, it’d be best if he didn’t see her right away.”

“His concern is justified,” said Dumbledore, “but perhaps this situation can be forgiven… Rosie had one of her hunches.”

Sirius sat up straighter, frowning. Her last hunches had her steal the Philosopher’s Stone before Voldemort could get his hands on it, and finding the Chamber of Secrets. Could have been chalked up as coincidences, but Dumbledore didn’t think so. Dumbledore had a hunch of his own, and Sirius Black and come to understand that Dumbledore was rarely wrong in his guesses. 

“She seemed to think if she did not put herself in the tournament, Harry would have been forced to,” explained Dumbledore. 

_ I see.  _

Now Sirius understood why Dumbledore had called him down. Rosie’s hunches weren’t things that could be safely put into a letter. If her hunch was accurate again then— 

“Think they’re in danger?” somberly asked Sirius. “More so than usual, I mean.”

“I think,” said Dumbledore delicately, “we should carefully monitor the tournament. If Rosie tells you anything…”

“I’ll let you know,” promised Sirius. “I—”

Whatever Sirius was going to say next was interrupted as the office door swung open and a furious Igor Karkaroff stormed inside. Sirius recognized the man immediately—he had kept tabs on all escaped Death Eaters—and fought against reflexively scowling at the man.

“Dumbledore!” Igor snapped. “I—Who are you?”

“Sirius Black,” Sirius coolly introduced himself. 

“You are the guardian of Potter?” demanded Igor. “Can you withdraw her from the tournament?”

Dumbledore raised his hands in a gesture of calm. “Lord Black his not here to withdraw Miss Potter.”

Igor snorted derisively. “I should have known.” 

“Why are you so concerned with her?” asked Sirius, eyes narrowed. Not only did Rosie have a hunch about Harry being in danger, but a Death Eater had an interest in her. 

Sirius Black always knew the war would come again. Voldemort wasn’t dead. Sirius had spent the past decade in preparation for that event. He and a few other Order members had meticulously put together dossiers on all known Death Eaters, and monitored them whenever possible. Sirius had taken up ward construction and used a good chunk of the Black wealth to set up safe houses. 

By the time Voldemort returned, Sirius would be more than ready for him and all of his disgusting followers. 

“I am  _ concerned  _ that we were promised our participants would only be of a certain age group. Yet Hogwarts’ champion is  _ coincidentally  _ one of the Twins-Who-Lived,” sneered Karkaroff. “She should not have even been considered, and yet here we are. The press, I’m sure, will already be delighted by that.”

Sirius frowned at that, folding his hands together. He never had the pleasure of directly meeting Karkaroff prior to today, but Sirius Black knew his type. 

Oh, yes.

Sirius Black knew his type painfully well. 

Cowardly, slimy, and always quick to complain when things did not go exactly as planned. He had heard through the grapevine that Karkaroff had been the hardest for Bagman to convince to try the Triwizard tournament. The Durmstrang headmaster adamantly wanted the Tournament to be held at Durmstrang and would refuse to budge for months prior. It took a year of Bagman whittling the man down before the git finally granted Hogwarts the honor.

And even then, it was only after he was able to ensure that his prized student—Viktor Krum—would be able to attend and not have it conflict with his Quidditch career.

How fantastically prestigious it would be for Karkaroff to not only mentor a Quidditch star, but a Triwizard Champion. Sirius could easily picture the man making a greedy face over that title.

And any hiccup—no matter how small—would warrant immediate complaints in his mind.

Sirius would bet a hundred galleons Igor Karkaroff was the type of person to bellyache if the House Elves served his tea a temperature too hot or too cold.

What could Sirius expect from a Death Eater who gleefully tortured Muggles and sold out his comrades as soon as things got taught? Honor was not a word in Karkaroff’s dictionary, as far as Sirius was concerned.

And so it did not surprise him to see him complain about something out of their control. Sirius  _ was  _ surprised by the vehemency about it, and that Karkaroff even brought up Rosie’s title at all. 

All the Headmasters had agreed to the age restriction, but Sirius Black wondered if Karkaroff agreed not because he was concerned for the younger student’s safety, but because he did not want his prized pupil to face off against Magical Britain’s darling?

Was he actually intimidated?

_ Given how cowardly he is, it wouldn’t surprise me if he  _ was  _ scared by a little witch,  _ Sirius thought darkly.

He decided to voice his thoughts with a sneer, “Scared of my goddaughter, Karkaroff?”

Karkaroff glared icily at him. “I am not  _ intimidated  _ by a witch who has not even taken her O.W.L.s How do you think the press will react? When Viktor wins, can you guarantee there won’t be a slander piece in the  _ Prophet  _ about him that will spur on the Potter fans to send him hate mail? That people will try to ruin his—and Durmstrang’s—reputation because how dare  _ their  _ savior not win?”

“I didn’t think you read the  _ Prophet _ ,” Sirius said icily. He couldn’t refute what the  _ Prophet  _ might do, nor what fans of Rosie and Harry Potter would do. Even if there were no fan clubs at Hogwarts, Sirius paid attention to the press and knew there were an abundant amount of witches and wizards who adored the twins. 

Anything the  _ Prophet  _ wrote about the twins was ravenously devoured. Dozens of times Sirius had to turn away reporters and decline interviews when he went out in public while the twins were at school. He had to change up disguises whenever he wanted peace. It had been a genuine concern the twins would face stalkers. There were a couple of close calls, but Dumbledore had been able to neatly deal with them behind the scenes.

Karkaroff had a fair point. If the  _ Prophet  _ painted Viktor Krum as some terrible bully who ruthlessly took advantage of Rosie in the tournament… 

Yeah. He’d probably get some hate mail. If the masses were spurned on enough, there was a chance for Krum’s reputation and credibility to be attacked. 

But that was all  _ what if _ , and the man was immediately assuming Krum would win. 

It irritated Sirius. 

“I stay informed,” Karkaroff snapped. “There is no winning in this situation. It is  _ absurd  _ that we cannot redo the drawing.”

“What’s done is done,” said Dumbledore with patience Sirius envied. “I am sorry, Igor.”

“Then she should not compete at all! Have her sit on the sidelines,” said Karkaroff stubbornly. 

“No,” said Sirius. “If my goddaughter wants to compete, she should compete.”

Privately, Karkaroff had a good point.

But Sirius really hated how he said it, and  _ really  _ didn’t want to agree with the man. It’d be as bad as agreeing with Snape.

_ Plus I bet she could kick Krum’s ass,  _ Sirius thought, glaring at Igor.

Sirius already mentally promised himself if Rosie scored better than Karkaroff’s pupil he’d let her wear whatever she wanted outside in the summer.

For at least three—no two—okay for one outing. She could wear whatever she wanted for one outing and Sirius wouldn’t make her put on more clothes. 

Ugh.

Why did his goddaughter have to be cute? Sirius knew exactly what teenagers thought. 

He didn’t even want to imagine the bloodshed if someone solicited Rosie and she was in a bad mood. Or worse: solicited a grumpy Rosie in front of a grumpy Harry.

He was doing it for their own good, really. 

Surely  _ one  _ outing would be safe, though, right? One outing. Yes… one…

Sirius had vague flashbacks to the tic bomb. 

Nope.

He’d think of a different reward. 

Igor Karkaroff and Sirius Black continued to glower at one another until Dumbledore politely cleared his throat. “For the moment, gentleman, I fear that we cannot come to an agreement. Miss Potter must compete. The Goblet of Fire has gone out and will be returned to the Ministry tomorrow. Sirius, as Miss Potter is still a minor you are entitled to file a complaint with the Ministry and Board of Education.”

“No complaints,” quickly said Sirius. “If that’s all, I’ll leave you and… Karkaroff.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “Thank you, Sirius.”

_ She better kick Krum’s ass,  _ thought Sirius.  _ Or else I’ll double ground her with Remus.  _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**(Rosie)**

Monday afternoon it was time for the brief photoshoot. One of the first year Slytherins had been sent to fetch me from Transfiguration, and I was headed off to one of the normally empty classrooms.

Most of the desks had been pushed aside to leave a large space in the middle of the classroom. A few of them, however, had been placed side by side in front of the blackboard and covered in velvet. Five chairs had been seated behind it, and Ludo Bagman sat at one of them who chatted with a woman that I guessed was Rita. 

Viktor Krum stood moodily in a corner, while Fleur stood away from him, examining her nails. Bagman spotted me and waved me in.

“Here she is, our final champion. Do come in, we need to do the wand weighing ceremony. The rest of the judges will be here in a moment. And then there’s going to be a little photoshoot. This is Rita Skeeter,” he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. “She’s doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet.”

“Maybe not  _ that  _ small, Ludo,” said Rita Skeeter, her eyes looking me up and down. “I wonder if I could have a little word with Rosaline before we start? The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of color?”

“Certainly!” cried Bagman. “That is—if Rosaline has no objection?”

“Nope,” I said.

“Lovely,” said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers grasped my arm in a surprisingly strong grip. She steered me out of the room again and opened a nearby door.

“We don’t want to be in there with all that noise,” she said. “Let’s see... ah, yes, this is nice and cozy.”

It was a broom cupboard.

“ _ Pity. I’d wish my first trip into a broom cupboard was with you,” _ I teasingly flirted with Tom.

Tom coughed, covering up his snorts.

_ “Aww come on! That was good! Laugh with me.” _

“Come along, dear—that’s right—lovely,” said Rita Skeeter again, perching herself precariously upon an upturned bucket, pushing me down onto a cardboard box, and closing the door, throwing us into darkness. “Let’s see now — ”

She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into midair.

“You won’t mind, Rosaline, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally... ”

“Go for it, but make sure it describes me as pretty,” I laughed in good nature, causing Rita to giggle quietly.

“ _ Gorgeous _ ,” she assured me. “Stunningly so.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“So, Rosaline... what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Oh, please my friends call me Rosie,” I told her, watching as the quill wrote out:

_ The stunningly beautiful witch’s vibrant blue eyes glistened with admiration as she insisted that the attractive blonde Rita Skeeter refer to her as— _

_ “This is gonna be fun to read later,”  _ I told Tom.

“I entered the tournament as a way to test myself,” I told her. “I do so love a challenge.”

“And how do you feel about the tasks ahead? Excited? Nervous?”

“Oh, definitely excited,” I answered her. “I only hope to do my family proud. You know my godfather—he’s still single, by the way—took me and my twin in after we lost our parents. He’s the most daring and brave person I know. I wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor like he would have wanted, but—”

“Ah, say no more,” Rita said, and I could already see the angle she’d be going for. 

**_“You’re sly._ ** ”

“ _ Yep.” _

Her questions went on until the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. 

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at us.

“Hi Grandpa,” I said cheerfully with a wave of my hand.

Professor Dumbledore smiled. “The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard.”

“Talk to you later, pretty lady,” I said, ducking out of the cupboard and heading back to the room.

The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, and I sat down quickly next to Fleur, looking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges sat—Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges’ table and talking to the champions. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?” said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

“Hmmm.” 

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me... ”

“An ’air from ze ’ead of a veela,” said Fleur. “One of my grandmuzzer’s.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, “yes, I’ve never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands... however, to each his own, and if this suits you… ”

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, “ _ Orchideous _ !” and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand-tip.

“Very well, very well, it’s in fine working order,” said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. “Miss Potter, you next.”

Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at me when I passed her.

“Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn’t it?” said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as I handed over my wand. “Yes, I remember it well. R edwood with a phoenix feather core, nine and a half inches and hard flexibility… Yes, very well cared for.”

“I love it dearly,” I admitted.

“It shows.”

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver sparkles across the room from the tip of my wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, “Mr. Krum, if you please.”

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

“Hmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, “this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wandmaker, though the styling is never quite what I... however—”

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

“Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?” he shot at Krum, who nodded. “Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches...  _ Avis! _ ”

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

“Good,” said Mr. Ollivander,

“Thank you all,” said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges’ table. “You may go back to your lessons now or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end—”

“Photos, Dumbledore, photos!” cried Bagman excitedly. “All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?”

“Er—yes, let’s do those first,” said Rita Skeeter, blatantly eyeing me up and down. “And then perhaps some individual shots.”

_ “She wants me.” _

Tom scoffed loudly. 

The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn’t stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl; Krum skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group; Dumbledore, thankfully, looked absolutely stylish with his purple robes with twinkling stars on it. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging me into greater prominence. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, we were free to go.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The piece Rita released ten days later was indeed a riot. I was happy she was true to her word and included how pretty I was which made me howl with laughter. 

_ I was sorted into Slytherin, but I’ve always wanted a chance to prove to my godfather and parents how brave I am. I miss them terribly. I only hope that by entering and winning this tournament I will make my family proud of me… _

On and on it went. 

It was great. We tossed it around the Slytherin common room, each one taking a quote out and mocking it. We laughed so hard some of us fell out of seats in tears.

Professor Snape came by and scolded us for being too loud, but when we showed him the article and why we were laughing, he sighed then gave me detention on Sunday (I cried out how unfair that was which made Draco and Pansy laugh so hard they fell out of their chair), and left.

The best part was when Fenrir sent me a letter asking about the article. I had to reassure him it was hogwash, and he was greatly relieved because he was rubbish at comforting crying children.

On the Saturday before the first task, all students in the third year and above were permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade. I planned to use that as a chance to purchase more supplies to make the animagus potion for myself and Harry. We had both reached the next step of our training that we needed to take the potion and properly meet with our animal. After that it was just lots of practice trying to turn into it.

On the way to Hogsmeade Harry grabbed me in the hallway, out of breath and wide-eyed. “Dragons!”

“Come again?”

“Ron’s brother, Charlie, wrote in to visit.  _ Dragon’s _ . You have to fight a dragon during the first task.” 

“Thanks, dear,” I chirped. “I’ve already got a plan.”

Harry blinked once, twice, then sighed with relief. “You always do.”

**_“What are you going to do with dragons?_ ** ”

“ _ They have sharp hearing and good eyes. I was thinking about using the flash-bang spell.” _

**_“That would disorient them, but that’s about it. How would you kill it?”_ **

_ “I’ll check the rules, but if possible I’d like to summon a draught of the living dead and throw it down its throat while it’s disoriented.” _

**_“You would need a highly concentrated batch._ ** _ ” _

_ “A good thing I’ve brewed plenty at Lunar’s Orchid in my spare time then, isn't it? Although, we don’t even know if we’re supposed to  _ kill  _ the dragon. They’re protected species.” _

**_“That’s true._ ** _ ” _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Tuesday morning I got dressed, handed Iris to Draco so she wouldn’t get caught up in the match, and silently practiced my wand motions for the two spells I planned on using. 

Lucidus Tonitrum was the flash-bang spell I had crafted with Tom in the third year. Invented shortly afterward was Quiescis Tenebris, a type of shield charm that would prevent me from being disoriented by my flash-bang. The shield would only last a handful of seconds as it blinded and deafened me. 

The Slytherins wore badges with my face on it, a clear show of support. They patted me on the back and gave me words of encouragement when it was finally time for me to head out. 

Professor Snape was chosen to pick me up. “The champions are required on the grounds, Miss Potter.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Scared?”

“I may not be wearing gold and red, but I’ve been told I’ve got my mother’s heart,” I said offhandedly. 

_ And spitefulness. _

Professor Snape did not continue the conversation after I mentioned Lily. I couldn’t see his face very well to tell if he was upset, perplexed, or wholly indifferent to the matter. 

It was a chilly November afternoon. I hugged my cloak tighter, hoping that the waiting tent would at least be warm. Around the edge of the forest, past a clump of trees, we arrived at a large tent. Professor Snape nodded once towards it, then abruptly left me. 

Heading inside, I was pleased to find that it was warm. Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn’t look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual. 

“Potter! Good-o!” said Bagman happily, looking around at him. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home!”

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Quidditch Wasp robes again.

“Well, now we’re all here—time to fill you in!” said Bagman brightly. “When the audience has assembled, I’m going to be offering each of you this bag”—he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them—“from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different—er—varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too... ah, yes... your task is to collect the golden egg!”

And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking. Chants of  _ God Save the Queen  _ could be heard which made me giggle. 

Bagman opened up a purple silk sack. 

“Ladies first,” he said as he offered it to Fleur Delacour.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon—a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck.

_ Gimme the Horntail baby. Gimme, gimme, gimme.  _

Since I was also a lady he then held out the sack to me and to my utter delight I did indeed get the Hungarian Horntail with number three around its neck.

“Do I get to keep this model?” I asked, cooing at the adorable babeh in the palm of my hands.

“Certainly!”

“Totally worth it now. The Horntail looks the coolest.”

Krum was last, he pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number one around it. 

“Well, there you are!” said Bagman. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I’m going to have to leave you for a moment, because I’m commentating. Mr. Krum, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right?”

He and Victor Krum exited the tent together, leaving Fleur alone with myself. 

I scratched the baby model’s chin. It trilled at me as it nipped at my fingers, simultaneously behaving with aggression and affection.

“I’ll call you Tsu,” I whispered to it as I pulled the collar off its neck.

Seconds later, we heard the roar of the crowd. 

Fleur and I took seats opposite of one another in the back of the tent. The whistle blew, the crowd chanted, and Victor Krum’s match began. 

“Very daring!” Bagman yelled as the Chinese Fireball let out a horrible, roaring shriek, while the crowd drew its collective breath. “That’s some nerve he’s showing—and—yes, he’s got the egg!”

Applause shattered the winter air like breaking glass; Krum had finished.

“One down, two to go!” Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. “Miss Delacour, if you please!”

Fleur was trembling from head to foot. The poor dear looked so shaken I couldn’t help but give her an encouraging, “You’ll be fine, dear.”

She shot me a look that could only be conveyed as:  _ You, a  _ child,  _ should not be comforting me right now. _

The same process started again.... “Oh I’m not sure that was wise!” they could hear Bagman shouting gleefully. “Oh... nearly! Careful now... good lord, I thought she’d had it then!”

Ten minutes later, the crowd nearly deafened me with its roar of approval. 

There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at me from stands that had been magicked into existence. The Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her gleaming yellow eyes upon me, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd started chanting  _ God Save the Queen  _ which honestly almost made me giggly again.

I readied my wand and the nesting dragon raised her head to give me quite the stink eye. 

As quick as I could, I bellowed, “ _ Quiescis Tenebris! Lucidus Tonitrum! _ ”

Due to my first spell I was protected from the flash-bang. A good thing too, as when it cleared out I could see that everyone else in the stadium was bent over, clutching at their ears and groaning. The dragon was staggering around, disoriented and breathing fire wildly. 

Blinded as she was, it was short work to nip the egg. While she—and everyone else—was still struggling to regain their vision and hearing, I lobbed my one good canister of Draught of the Living Death (sneakily placed near the stadium last night so I could Accio within seconds) down her throat.

By the time everyone else had their vision returned, I stood triumphantly over the dragon with a golden egg.

Stunned silence.

I loudly cleared my throat.

The Slytherins were the first to react—along with Harry, which I appreciated—and they  _ screamed _ in approval. 

“Look at that!” Bagman shouted with utter glee. “Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get her egg! And in one spell! LOOK AT THAT!”

_ It was not one spell, but sure— _

Dragon keepers rushed forward to the dragon, plain concern. I caught one of them and said, “She drank a sleeping potion. I’ll give Hagrid the antidote later.”

“ _ Sleeping potion _ ?” the keeper muttered in disbelief. “Nothing short of Draught of— _ no _ . You didn’t.”

“I did.”

The keeper groaned. “Damn, she’s going to be grouchy for months.”

“Glad I’m not her keeper then,” I chuckled as I headed back into the tent, prepared to gloat over my victory. 

_ “How’d I look? Impressed by me yet?” _

**“** **_You have my attention._ ** _ ” _

I giggled.

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine’s my lovelies. 
> 
> The downside to having pre written so many chapters is when people ask for something to be explained that won’t be explained for a while and I’m just like: ;n; 
> 
> Latin is beautiful but weird. I respect its archetype as the magical language for fantasy worlds so I will press on with trying to use it to create spells. If you feel a different translation would work better lemme know. 
> 
> **Answer:** If I was good at magic, then hell yeah I would. I’d be excited if someone snuck me in, and maybe a bit anxious.
> 
> **Question:** How would you handle the dragon?
> 
> Reviews are  **love** !


	31. Year 4 - 5

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Upon returning to the Slytherin dorms I found that it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; children were singing  _ God Save the Queen _ ; Iris had expanded out and people were on top of her raising toasts. 

I helped myself to the food, joining in on the party in celebration. Theodore lifted me up and I was passed around the room like I’d seen done in movies which was  _ awesome.  _ A lot of the older students asked about the spell I used, but I brushed it off. 

It wasn’t something I planned to keep hidden forever, but I’d rather save it for people I could trust not to use it against me. Although I had made a lot of progress with my babeh snakes, it would be arrogant to claim my work had overridden their decade of ingrained prejudice. As long as Voldemort, and the political climate tipped in favor of their prejudice they would always be a risk. Once I had swept the Ministry clean of the Dark families the social normal would be in favor of the Light. My babeh snakes could be more publicly open to the idea of equality, and coupling that with my years of conditioning, the groundwork for future generations would be finished.

For example, Draco Malfoy would always hold a hidden disdain for Muggles and Muggleborn. But he could stay polite in their company, and acknowledge that they could be useful. By the time he would be ready to produce heirs of his own, it would prove beneficial for him to side with the Light and ergo he would. The next generation of Malfoys wouldn’t have the same level of disdain, and over time it would deteriorate until the prejudice was entirely gone. 

If I was fortunate, I would see it happen in my lifetime. If not, I could honestly say I did my best and I did what I could to lay the foundation for the future. 

The talk did poke around the golden egg I had brought back with me, but I dismissed their questions. I didn’t want to sour the mood by releasing what I knew to be an unpleasant scream. 

Instead, I raised a toast and joined in the party. 

It was a lovely,  _ lovely  _ night.

A shame Remus sent me another scathing letter reminding me that I was still EXTRA grounded no matter how well I did in the tournament or how much Sirius won from betting on me. 

Oof.

At least I got a super cute baby Hungarian Horntail model to keep at my desk. I made it a little house and fed it some of Iris’s food, much to her chagrin. Worth it. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts which tragically meant it was too chilly to continue my ongoing tennis match with the Whomping Willow. All the best, the madam preferred to hibernate in the winter. 

I headed into the library early morning instead of tennis, intent on reviewing some homework in peace. I felt eyes upon me shortly upon entry and noticed a group of Beauxbaton boys and girls had seated themselves near the front of the library. They smiled at me, some with kindness and others with a bit more… heat.

_ Right. The Yule Ball. _

I took a seat at one of the tables and a boy had approached me. He was certainly cute with curled hair and bright eyes. “Bonjour, comment vas tu aujourd'hui? _ ” _

_ “ _ Charmante _ ,”  _ I responded sweetly. “Puis-je vous aider?”

He gestured to my work. “Non, merci. Je suis venu vous offrir mon aide. Vous êtes en quatrième année?” 

“Yes—ah—Oui,” I said. “Et vous?”

He leaned onto my work table, placing his hand over my work as he slowly moved closer to me. “Septième.”

**_“I see Beauxbatons doesn’t teach their students about personal space,”_ ** observed Tom.

I smiled from Tom’s sass as another occurred to me. “Quel âge avez-vous?”

He seemed amused. “Dix-sept.” 

I reached forward and placed a gentle hand over his own. “Si vous êtes ici pour me proposer d'être mon escorte, ne le faites pas.”

He frowned at that. “Pardon? Pourquoi?”

With a sweet smile, I patted his hand. “Pas mon genre. Mais tu es très mignon.”

_ “Don’t worry: you’re cuter.” _

**_“I didn’t ask.”_ **

_ “As long as you know.” _

He inclined his head, gracefully taking the rejection and returning to his group of friends. I was delighted that the next to come over was a beautiful ebony haired beauty of a girl. 

Unfortunately she was also not of age and consequently I had to reject her. 

Ugh. 

_ “Oh woes me. The Yule Ball will be coming up and I’ll need a partner, _ ” I complained to Tom after spurning away another kiddo who was only sixteen. Prodigy or not, seventh year students under the age of consent were still kiddos in my head. Where were all the eighteen-year-olds? 

**_“Do you not have anyone in mind?”_ ** he asked.

_ “I wish it could be you, _ ” I admitted ruefully. Harry would be a comfortable choice—he wouldn’t expect anything out of me. I was concerned if I agreed to go with anyone else they’d want the relationship to go further. Hormones were gonna be an issue in fifth year from what I remembered, but I wanted to postpone that drama for as long as possible. 

I was mentally an adult. Taking things further with children whose voices still cracked gave me the heebies. Yes, technically, I was a child, but  _ technically  _ I was not. My mind was that of a young adult and I simply didn’t feel comfortable being escorted by someone who wasn’t at least either physically or mentally old enough to not make me feel icky. 

Tom was safest after Harry. He had the body of a child like myself, but had lived ( _ technically _ ) longer than I had. I’d say I had him beat in emotional maturity, but I couldn't lay claim to intellectual maturity. If I  _ had  _ to progress a relationship out of platonic before eighteen, I’d feel most comfortable with him.

Personally, I’d like to just wait until I was eighteen and date other eighteen-year-olds. 

I  _ had  _ been glancing over at the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students—and plenty looked over at me—and picking out the oldest ones. 

If Harry already had a date, I planned on manipulating one of them into asking me. It was such a shame that there weren’t as many of-age students. 

**“** **_Why can’t it be me?_ ** ”

_ “As a champion I need someone with an actual  _ body  _ to you know… dance with.” _

**_“And if that can be arranged?”_ **

_ “I would saaaaaay please be my date and tell me how exactly that can be arranged?” _

**“As you are aware, I’ve been extensively studying human anatomy the past year with you. After reviewing a few of the basic alchemical principles, I am confident to say that I can replicate a human homunculus that will be able to temporarily hold my… soul.** ”

That—that was astounding. I hadn’t read about a successful human homunculus being created before. Granted, I had limited access to knowledge about rituals and Dark magic. It could have already been accomplished and Tom was recreating it with additional knowledge. Or Tom was about to do something never done before with magic. 

I didn’t doubt him capable of such a feat, but doing so with only a year’s worth of medical knowledge?

Wow.

_ “I’m honestly a little jealous of your mind. Spare some of your genius, please. _ ”

His magic quivered as if he was chuckling.  **_“You’ve plenty of it yourself, Rosie.”_ **

_ “Flattery gets you everywhere, Tom.” _

**_“I know.”_ **

_ “So what do I need to do?” _

**_“I’m still working out the mathematical side of it. I am rusty on the non-euclidean geometry needed to transport a soul. It would be ideal if you could get a couple books on it, and start collecting ingredients needed.”_ **

_ Non-what? What? _

I definitely had never even heard of that math before. The fact that  _ geometry  _ was apparently involved with spellcrafting or rituals needed for the soul bummed me. I hated geometry. With a passion. Why did it have to be  _ geometry _ ?

What the heck was non-euclidean geometry? What was euclidean geometry?

_ “I can definitely do that. What ingredients do you need?”  _ I answered him, reluctant to ask him about non-euclidean geometry. I’d save that question for when I was prepared to get a lecture and headache. 

**“First…”**

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**(Harry)**

Harry Potter kept an even pace as he ran in between Neville and Daphne Greengrass. He was exhausted, his forehead throbbing painfully all night prior. He had never known his scar could hurt—did not think it possible, really—until he came to Hogwarts. He remembered it bothered him a lot his first year at Hogwarts, but then nothing came of it. He hadn’t brought it up with anyone because he thought they would think he was crazy.

It didn’t hurt again throughout his second and third year, but at his fourth year it would randomly surge with pain. 

On bad nights the pain was so terrible it woke him up in a cold sweat. 

He was starting to wonder if maybe it was time to tell someone. Scars didn’t normally hurt, after all, and his scar wasn’t obtained through normal means. 

Or maybe it’d be too much of a bother. 

Rosie had enough issues to deal with. What compelled his sister to join a life-threatening tournament was beyond Harry. She could be reckless, and maybe a bit of an adrenaline junkie, but never stupid. 

He could hazard a guess it was something related to a scheme of hers, but for the life of him he could not see what.

He yawned as he glanced up ahead at his sister. She was leading the run with Draco, Hermione, and Theodore. Hermione and Theodore were in one of their heated debates. Although they raised their voices at one another, Harry thought Hermione fancied their arguments. Theodore had a quick wit, and seemed to delight in challenging Hermione even if he actually agreed on her point. 

Neville yawned loudly after hearing Harry’s yawn, which in turn made Daphne yawn.

Daphne lightly slapped her cheeks. “Ugh. What, didn’t get enough sleep last night?”

“Nope,” Harry answered unabashed by her sharp tone. Daphne could be prickly and harsh, but there was never a malice to her. It helped that in spite of her needly nature she had moments of kindness to her. 

The green-eyed boy glanced over at Daphne, watching as she pinched her cheeks to keep from yawning again. 

Harry suddenly noticed Daphne was rather pretty. Certainly one of the more attractive students in their year group. 

He hadn’t paid much attention to any of the students in that manner. There was the occasional beauty that forced him to acknowledge them then and there—Fleur and Cho Chang came to mind—but for the most part Harry was wholly uninterested in people of the same and opposite gender. 

His mates weren’t the same. Neville already became smitten with a mystery girl, Ron kept stealing glances at girls in their year group, and he had heard Dean and Seamus rank boys and girls in their year group. Harry was perturbed to know that his sister ranked fairly high on their list. 

Urk. 

He was told repeatedly his sister was nice-looking, but Harry couldn’t see her as anything more than… Rosie. His adorable if a touch vindictive little baby sister.

He was ten minutes older than her, after all.

Those ten minutes were crucial, it gave him superior maturity and wisdom. He would use those ten minutes with great responsibility to look after her. 

Where was he?

Right. 

He had heard some people talk about his sister. A lot more than usual because of the tournament, but he really couldn’t see her that way. 

If  _ he  _ had to pick out who was nice-looking in their year group… 

Draco Malfoy was lovely. Harry figured the pale blond would have fit in perfectly with Tolkien’s elves. Daphne Greengrass was an established beauty that no one could refute. Blaise was undeniably handsome. Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw had a subtle charm to her. 

_ Who else?  _ thought Harry. 

“What’re you thinking so hard about, Harry?” asked Neville.

“Who’s attractive in our year group,” came his flippant response. Neville’s cheeks turned red and Daphne let out a small giggle.

Daphne said, “Looking for your Yule date?”

“Ah,” said Harry as he realized that someone would probably ask out his sister. 

That poor fool.

Oh. Right. Harry should  _ also  _ probably look into getting an escort, too. Sirius would never let him live it down if he showed up stag while Chaos Embodied snagged someone. 

Daphne went on, “Honestly, the Yule Ball sounds like it’d be a delight, but the pickings are slim here, you know?”

“Why not ask Draco?” asked Harry, nodding in his direction. “You’re both very pretty.”

Daphne’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like how easily you said both. Harry, who’s prettier? Me or Draco?”

“Uh.”

Neville coughed, thinking quickly to try and save Harry from answering a dangerous question. “I—I was thinking about asking that girl!”

“What girl?” asked Daphne, immediately intrigued by the potential gossip. 

“I dunno her name,” mumbled Neville. “Haven’t been able to find her. I ran into her at the feast. She was singing about magical herbs.”

Daphne frowned briefly before perking up. “Tell me about her, maybe I can find her.”

“She had long blonde hair,” said Neville, gesturing the length. “Silvery eyes, and I think she had a Ravenclaw tie. She looked like something out of a dream.”

Daphne pursed her lips. “Hm. I’ll get in touch with Mandy to see if she recognizes her.”

“Thanks, Daphne.”

“Welcome,” she said, reaching up to redo her ponytail. “Meanwhile, you should prepare how to ask her out.”

“Oh,” said Neville as he turned pink. “Y-You think she’ll accept?”

“You’re cute Neville,” said Daphne. “Most girls would be delighted if you asked them.”

“Thanks,” he said again with a wider smile. “Do you have anyone in mind, Daphne?”

“Not here,” she said with an upturned nose. “Some Beauxbaton boys look nice enough, I suppose, but given that a lot are graduating this year I don’t want to go with someone that much older than me. It would have been nice if they brought some of their own fourth years.”

Harry and Neville nodded along, politely listening to her complain.

She carried on, “Most of the boys here don’t take care of themselves.”

“Draco, Theodore, and Blaise do,” Harry pointed out.

“They’re all pining for someone else,” she snapped. 

Harry blinked. “Wait, what? Who?”

“Ugh. You’re as dense as your sister.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Are they all after my sister?”

“No! For the love of Morgana, open your eyes Harry,” sighed Daphne, shaking her head. “Ugh, I bet you don’t even realize how many girls are pining for you.”

“There are girls pining for me?” echoed a dumbfounded Harry. 

Daphne lightly scuffed the back of his head. “Idiot.”

“Are you pining for me?” he asked. “Do you want to go to the dance with me?”

“No and—” Daphne paused. “—sure.”

Harry blinked, surprised by the contradicting answers. “As friends?”

“As friends,” she agreed. “I know you’ll at least be a gentleman about it.”

“And I know you won’t treat me bad,” said Harry cheerfully, “because my sister will kick your ass.”

Daphne smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**(Rosie)**

Ingredients were easy. A quick letter to Kreacher was all it took. Next was finding a place to set up the ritual. That was unanimously agreed upon to be done in the Chamber of Secrets. I couldn’t exactly borrow a classroom where Professor Dumble—

_ HOW AM I GOING TO HIDE THE FACT THAT TOM FLIPPITY FLAPPITY RIDDLE IS TAKING ME TO THE YULE BALL?! _

The thought came to me later that day, at dinner, after I had already sent the letter out to Kreacher. I choked on my pumpkin juice, drawing immediate concern from my friends beside me.

Draco patted my back while Daphne handed me a napkin to wipe my face.

“You okay?” she asked with concern. 

“Uh—yeah—I—” I fumbled, thinking rapidly. “ _ Masquerade! _ ”

“Huh?” repeated Daphne.

“Masquerade,” I whispered. “The Yule Ball must become a masquerade.”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “What are you even saying?” 

“The Yule Ball. I’m declaring it a masquerade right now,” I said with more confidence. 

“Got the extra masks to spare?” Tracey asked, her tone dubious. “I don’t think anyone prepared for it.

“Ladies and Blaise,” I said, drawing their attention. “I need your fashion guidance. I will give you a budget of—oh—five thousand galleons”

Theodore choked on his drink at that, while Daphne accepted the number with a nod. 

“Get masks for every student in school. Any student not wearing a mask to the Yule Ball will face  _ my  _ absolute  _ fury _ for the rest of the year.”

The babeh snakes were surprised by such a statement, but none tried to refute. If anything, they looked rather eager. 

“ _ I’ll  _ talk to the professors to make sure they will accept that the ball has been transformed to a masquerade,” Draco immediately said. “I’ll also work with the Durmstrang students.”

“ _ I’ll  _ handle Beauxbatons,” Pansy cut in. “Tracey, Daphne, and Blaise are better suited to find the masks.”

“Only the very best,” sniffed Daphne. “If five thousand isn’t enough, I’ll take care of the difference.

I clapped my hands, smiling adoringly at my snakes. “Lovely. Thank you all so much.”

They smiled brightly in return, a few of their cheeks turning red from sheepish embarrassment about the praise.

_ “Uh. I don’t suppose you know your measurements to order a suit in time?” _

**_“I do.”_ **

_ “Phew. Crisis two averted.” _

“Why do you want a masquerade, anyway?” asked a bemused Daphne.

“To keep my date’s identity a secret of course,” I said.

A lot of my babeh snakes were suddenly choking on their food, doing spit-takes, and even giving me looks of betrayal.

“Even from  _ us _ ?” Pansy was scandalized.

“Ask me again who it is when we graduate,” I said. “But you won’t believe me when I tell you.”

“At this point nothing would surprise me,” said Theodore with a shrug.

“Aha. Wanna bet?”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The following day I flipped through a catalog—provided by Daphne—to hunt down dress robes to Tom’s specifications. I was sprawled on my bed on my belly, carefully examining what was available. I’d have to dip into my rainy day spendings as a thief to cover everything. In my old life I had been frugal, but that didn’t do me any good. The perks of being a thief meant when I ran out of money, I just stole some more. No 9-5 job for me. I’d rather work hard for a couple of days in the week then goof off for the rest of the month. 

The catalog was advertising a Christmas sale which reminded me I had to get Christmas shopping done, too. 

“With Christmas coming up,” I said out loud to Tom, “is there anything you want? You’re already hugely helping me out by agreeing to be my partner. I’d like to get you something in return.”

**_“Hm? Sorry, I was working on the equations for the homunculus body.”_ **

Understandable. I had seen some of the equations and they boggled my mind. I recognized a portion of it, but it was clear I still had a lot to learn. 

“ _ So what do you want for Christmas?” _

He paused, his magic twitching in a way I knew he was about to be devious. I was instantly alarmed and concerned. I was used to a sly Tom, but a mischievous one? Magic, help me. 

**_“You._ ** ”

“Oh, no,” I giggled nervously out loud, feeling my face redden. “Oh, dear. No, no.”

**_“Goodness, could the Queen of Slytherin be getting… flustered?”_ ** he mocked.

_ “Shuddup you—you—cake eater.” _

_ “ _ **_Are you the cake?”_ **

_ OH NO. HE’S SMOOTH.  _

His magic coiled around mine in a manner terribly reminiscent of someone trailing a hand down my spine.

“ **_Well… Rosie?_ ** ”

_ MAGIC LUCK PLEASE HAVE MERCY. GIVE ME AN INTERRUPTION SO I DON’T HAVE TO RESPOND. _

It was then that there was a knock at my door and I rushed outside to answer it.

_ OH THANK FUCKING GOD OH MY FUCKING GOD JESUS OH GOD. _

Oh he was laughing. He was definitely laughing at me. 

Nooo. I was all talk, I didn’t know what to do when called out. 

Opening the door, I was relieved to find Daphne on the other side. She flipped her hair back and said, “Do you already have a mask picked out for your dress?”

“Ah—no, not yet.”

“Want me to pick it out for you?”

“That’d be great, thanks. Oh, actually I’m picking out dress robes for my—er—escort.”

Daphne’s eyes lit up with delight. “He’s going to wear what you pick for him? Wonderful! I’d be delighted to help him match you.”

“Thanks. Let’s, uh, let’s do it out in the common room. In public.”

**_“You seem to think that will stop me.”_ **

_ “Please. Please be kind.” _

He chortled, his magic warmer than usual from his laughter. Laughter at my expense, but laughter nonetheless. I was happy that he could feel comfortable enough around me to tease, but golly gosh he was a dangerous opponent. I didn’t have any dating experience, my knowledge only coming from psychology texts and remarks made by my college roommates. I hadn’t been the pretty type either, so there hadn’t been anyone trying to get my attention. 

As Rosie, I  _ was  _ pretty. I could see the looks other boys and girls had given me, but since they were all children I didn’t think much of it. If Anyo started flirting I’d probably be as equally flustered.

Thankfully the vampire was perfectly happy remaining platonic. 

**_“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll return to my work on the equations.”_ **

_ “You’re the best.” _

**_“I know.”_ **

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The last week of term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. The castle was particularly chaotic when the Slytherins set up a giant mask stand in the Great Hall for all the students to pick out a mask from. It was guarded by the Slytherins to ensure no one tried to take more than one. I wasn’t sure how Draco managed to persuade the professors into accepting it, but golly gee I was proud of him for it. I praised him and gave him a sisterly kiss on the forehead which he was super duper happy about. 

Harry, to my delightful surprise, already had a date. He didn’t tell me who, but that should make for a treat to see and potentially tease.

Hermione  _ did  _ tell me that Victor Krum asked her out and she accepted. She had told me such because she wanted my help finding a mask that would go with her outfit. Daphne ended up stepping in which made me almost cry out of pride.

Daphne, who was once so prejudiced and narcissistic toward Muggle-borns, willingly helped out Hermione Granger with her Yule Ball outfit. In fact, Daphne invited Hermione to come to the Slytherin dungeons the day of so she could help with her hair.

Hermione gratefully accepted and I hugged Daphne so tight she wheezed she couldn’t breathe. 

“I’m so proud of you though,” I gushed to her. 

“Well. Hermione’s special,” she said dismissively. “She’s brilliant. A bit of a goody-goody, but she kicks Theodore’s ass in debate.”

“Very true,” I agreed. 

Daphne’s escort was a mystery. Theodore and Tracy decided to go together as friends—Tracy asked Theodore because she felt uncomfortable being asked out by a guy but still wanted to go to the dance. Theodore was relieved to be spared the agony of asking a girl. Draco and Pansy agreed to go together as friends. Blaise asked out a girl from Beauxbatons. Millie was asked out by a student from Durmstrang. I wasn’t sure what was going on with Vincent and Gregory. 

Neville asked out—to my utter delightful surprise— _ Luna Lovegood _ .

How?

I had no idea. I wanted to ask  _ all  _ the details but every time it was brought up during our morning runs—which had been substituted for dance practice for me and Harry because I had to be  _ flawless  _ while opening up the dances—he turned red in the face and spluttered until Harry saved him by pointedly asking about  _ my  _ date. Obviously I couldn’t tell anyone about Tom, so I loudly whistled innocently and looked away.

The dance practice was a necessity. I was grateful to have a brother who was so kind enough to humor me.

Harry stepped on my toe. 

Sucked that he sucked though. 

“ _ Ow _ ,” I said with a glare.

“Sorry, I need the practice, too,” he said unsparingly. “I can step on your feet all I want.”

“How are you this bad at dancing? You're a Seeker! Athleticism should be your bread and butter.”

“Dancing is completely different from flying on a broom,” Harry protested as he stepped on my feet again.

“Gah! Someone switch,” I demanded. 

Hermione graciously offered to be Harry’s partner while Draco stepped up to be mine. Thankfully, Draco was an excellent dancer already and Hermione had a sixth sense for when to avoid Harry’s clumsy footwork. 

“Thank you,” I thanked Draco as we danced around. “You have saved my feet.”

“It’s no worries,” the boy assured me with an easy smile. “You’re already a natural at dancing.”

I giggled, “Oh?”

“As long as you have a good lead—like myself—you’ll do flawlessly for the opening dance,” Draco said in a subtly braggy voice. 

_ “Are you a good lead?”  _ I asked Tom.

**_“How dare you even consider otherwise.”_ **

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The Hogwarts staff demonstrated a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. They were determined to show the castle at its best that Christmas. They were the most stunning decorations I had yet seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear “ _ O Come, All Ye Faithful _ ” sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. 

On Christmas day, the snake babehs and I opened presents together in Draco’s room—the common room was too filled up. I did  _ not  _ open Sirius’s present that was suspiciously unicorn shaped until I was in private, but everything else was opened with my friends. 

Draco and Daphne were obviously the most spoiled out of the bunch. They had an assortment of trinkets, jewels, clothes, and stuff I didn’t recognize. It was all in good fun, and what they didn’t want they offered up to the rest of us. We joked, jabbered, and jeered at one another until it was past breakfast and time to start getting ready.

I slipped away to the Chambers where I began to draw the alchemy circle Tom had designed. It was hard keeping everything perfectly accurate. Only on my third attempt did I satisfy Tom. As before with fooling the goblet of fire, I let Tom take control and as the rest was beyond my comprehension.

I understood the anatomy part of it—I even corrected some of his work regarding it—but my knowledge in the Dark Arts was abysmal. 

It was fascinating to watch. He twirled my wand as a conductor would in the climax of a show, dazzling sparkles of magic shooting out and spinning around us. The magic lingered in the air, weaving together like pixies dancing. I understood bits of the spells he uttered—or at least the ones he said in Latin—but I couldn’t correlate them with what he was doing.

I watched the magic light show for thirty minutes—although it barely felt like two because of how enraptured I had become with it—until it was done and I felt a sharp  _ whoosh  _ of cold air escape me. Tom’s magic slipped away from me, stealing my breath in a dizzying sensation that made my knees buckle and I fell gracelessly to the stone floor.

Dots blurred my vision, I blinked rapidly to clear them away. 

Suddenly there was a cool hand on my cheek, a distant voice calling to me. After another minute of concentration and trying to catch my breath, I found myself staring up at the angelic face of Tom Riddle.

“It worked,” I breathed out in amazement.

Tom’s face screwed up. “Not… entirely.”

I sat up, noticing Tom had already thrown on a black robe. Not like the ritual came with clothes, after all. 

“May I?” I asked him, reaching out to touch him.

“You may,” he said and I cupped both of his cheeks to carefully examine him. My fingers roamed down and I checked his lymph nodes, pulse, flexibility for elbows and wrists. He sat up properly so I could place my ear against his chest and listen to his lungs. I didn’t have a stethoscope—I felt ashamed I hadn’t thought to bring one—but I didn’t hear anything distinctly wrong with his lungs at least.

I rotated his neck, having him turn his head this way and that way and asking him questions like  _ How did that feel? Any stiffness?  _ and so on.

After thirty minutes I felt satisfied he was reasonably healthy. I asked him, “Okay, I don’t see anything wrong. Why do you think it didn’t work?”

“This will only last a day,” he said. “It’s not… holding my soul like your body did.”

I couldn’t test for that. Science hadn’t advanced to the point that human souls could be seen, let alone interact with one. I grimaced. “That’s… hogwash, I’m sorry.”

“It’s a step,” he said dismissively. “I would like to create an ideal body. No one before had ever achieved a homunculus body that didn’t disintegrate within a minute of construction, I am already well beyond that.”

“Wow. Look at you go!” I praised. 

“It is merely a test run. I will return to you after it fades,” he said, accepting my praise with a graceful tilt of his head. His lips twitched. “It is holding up well for a trial. Even I’m impressed by the results.”

I smiled warmly at him. “As you should be. If you’re able to recreate a perfect body to hold your soul in—well, isn’t that the ticket to immortality?”

“The end result should be a creation that does not age,” he said in an agreeable tone. “I’ll need to further research what else Muggle scientists know about decay and aging.”

_ My, my. Tom Riddle wanting to learn from Muggles.  _

Something about my expression must have amused him because he smirked. “A Slytherin will use everything to his advantage. Throwing away knowledge that could benefit him simply due to the source is the height of folly.”

“Yes,” I agreed, my smile stretching. “You are a worthy snake, Tom.”

“Thank you, Rosie.”

“Welp! I should probably head back and let Daphne get started on taming this mess,” I said, gesturing to my hair that was currently in its standard messy bun. Tom blinked, a flicker of surprise over his face. 

“... You trust me not to leave?” he asked softly as I turned away.

I paused, then turned back around. “You’re my friend. If you want to leave, I’d understand.”

If Tom Riddle left me now to pursue whatever he wanted, I didn’t feel like he’d come after me or my family. The Tom I had gotten to know in the past few years was not an inherently evil boy. He was a genius wizard with ambiguous morals, but he had enough compassion in him to want friendship. 

I did not feel he would be a threat to me, and so as his friend—or at least someone who cared about him—I saw no reason to hold him back. If he could leave, and he wanted to, I wasn't going to imprison him any longer. 

Tom glanced away. “I’m not sure I could say the same.”

_ Huh—? _

“You should head back, Rosie. I’ll see you later.”

“Mn. Okay, Tom. See you!”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Extra** : 

On my way to class I spotted two twins chatting with one another. Unable to resist the opportunity, I set down my books, and ran straight at them.

I jumped behind them, stretching out my arms to hook the back of their necks and bring them forward and down as I landed. They bonked their heads, letting out an  _ Ow _ .

“What was that for, Rosie?” groaned Fred as he rubbed at his head.

“A little snake told me one of you thought it was a good idea to try and jinx the mask stand,” I said. “This is a love tap as a warning.”

“Don’t tempt us, Rosie,” warned George with a devilish grin. “We might challenge you.”

As I still had them in a headlock under each arm, I kissed the top of their heads. “You’re cute, but you’re at a huge disadvantage.  _ I  _ can enter your dorm room any time I want.  _ You  _ cannot enter mine  _ ever _ . Pick your battles, darlings. And do keep in mind… I won my war with Padfoot.”

They grimaced.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Translations:**
> 
> Bonjour, comment vas tu aujourd'hui? * Good morning, how are you today?
> 
> Charmante. Puis-je vous aider? * Lovely. May I help you?
> 
> Non, merci. Je suis venu vous offrir mon aide. Vous êtes en quatrième année? * No, thank you. I came over to offer you my help. You are in your fourth year? 
> 
> Oui. Et vous? * Yes. And you?
> 
> Septièm. * Seventh. 
> 
> Quel âge avez-vous? * How old are you?
> 
> Dix-sept. * Seventeen. 
> 
> Si vous êtes ici pour me proposer d'être mon escorte, ne le faites pas. * If you are here to offer to be my escort, don’t. 
> 
> Pardon? Pourquoi? * Pardon? Why? 
> 
> Pas mon genre. Mais tu es très mignon. * You’re not my type. But you’re very cute. 
> 
> **ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**
> 
> Asexual Tom being an ass is what I live for. 
> 
> Harry’s sexuality is ambiguous for those wondering. Aside from one coupling, I have no outside pairings decided. Y’all can put forward your desires and I’ll probably pick the pairings I see the most of in the comments / reviews. 
> 
> **Answer:** Same way as Rosie if possible. 
> 
> **Question:** Who would you wish asked you to the Yule Ball?
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	32. Year 4 - 6 (The Yule Ball)

**Beta: Cloudy**

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Daphne ended up roping Tracey and Pansy into my room to help tame the insanity that was my curly red hair. Because I normally swept it up in a bun or ponytail, the girls decided it was time to let my hair down. 

They tamed the frizz, yanked out the knots with a pain-free brush (bless you magic), then softened the curls. After that I had to get into my dress before they continued on with my hair, then make up. 

Hermione arrived shortly after I was done getting ready and they switched over to her. My room had officially been taken over by the girls and it smelled of perfume, make up, and some type of hair potion. Knowing they’d have the rest handled, I decided it was time to meet back up with Tom in the chambers. I needed to make sure his dress robes fit, since he didn’t have a wand of his own to fix them if they didn’t.

It was, admittedly, very satisfying to get looks of surprise from my fellow Slytherins. I received several compliments—most of which I felt were sincere. I was terribly proud of my babeh snakes. Despite how lovely I looked, I didn’t receive any catcalls or any compliments that made me uncomfortable. All the boys and girls were cordial and respectful. 

My pride for them made it impossible not to smile warmly and brightly at each of them in return. Some of them blushed, and others beamed in response. 

I wondered how different my House had grown from canon. Were the snakes warm and affectionate in canon behind closed doors, or was that a change brought upon my guidance? 

Would it be too arrogant to admit that I wished it was because of me?

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I stepped off Iris—no way in hell I was letting my dress and shoes get dirty with the pipe water—and glanced around the Chambers. From the shadows of one of the hallways, Tom Riddle stepped out in black dress robes. He was fixing the cuffs on his left sleeves, a coy smile on his face.

He said, “You look absolutely beautiful, Rosie.”

I couldn’t fight back my silly smile, a small blush over my cheeks. He wasn’t wrong. I looked amazing.  _ Thank you, Lily, for being such a beautiful lady.  _

The dress was primarily a deep blue to match my eyes. It was a ballgown dress, enchanted to be flowy and easy to dance in. It had short sleeves with an embroidered design, pulled down my shoulders to give a v shape neckline. The bottom half of my dress had shimmering stars enchanted onto it. It was meant to look similar to a night sky, the magic sparkling with each step I took. My mask was the same shade of blue, stylized in a traditional shape that only covered the upper half of my face. 

Used up all of my allowance and then some for the dress, shoes, and mask, but I was happy with the results. I never went to prom, or owned such an extravagant dress in either of my lives. I was happy to cross that off the bucket list.

Tom, unsurprisingly, looked absurdly handsome. The dress robes had a suit-vibe to them. He had a deep blue suit vest and bow tie to match my dress. His own mask was black, and would cover his upper face. 

I  _ hoped  _ it would be enough to not catch Dumbledore’s attention. I mean, really, what were the odds that Dumbledore would immediately assume Rosie Potter, a Twin-Who-Lived, was being escorted to the Yule Ball by Tom Riddle? 

Surely,  _ surely _ , Dumbledore wouldn’t conclude that. That’d be insane! He wasn’t  _ that  _ Gandalf-ish. 

There were  _ plenty  _ of dark haired students. It’d be logical to assume I was being escorted by someone from one of the other visiting schools. No way Dumbledore had all their faces and names memorized. He was good but he wasn’t  _ that  _ good, right?

Right. I was fine. It was fine. Everything would be fine.

And if not?

Welp. I got to go to a dance with a hot guy that had a voice like butter. Can’t complain. I will captain this ship into hell.

I politely clapped. “Gotta say Tom, you clean up nice.”

He raised an eyebrow as he slowly parroted, “ _ Clean up _ ?”

“Okay, well, you already know you’re a hottie to start with. What else am I going to say?” I laughed. “You look hotter than your normal hotness?”

A snort escaped him before he could cover up his laugh. “Right. Yes.”

“Tom, you look hotter than your normal hotness.”

“Thank you, Rosie. Are we riding Iris to the hall?”

“At least until we’re out of the Chambers, then she’s going to be spending the evening playing with Hedwig,” I said. “Your robes fit okay?”

“They’re perfectly fine,” he assured me. “Shoes need a little readjusting.”

“Oh. Here,” I said as I handed him my wand. 

Tom blinked in surprise, gaping momentarily before he recovered. “Wh—Where did you keep that?”

I turned around and patted my lower back. “There’s a sliver of a pocket for a wand to fit then disappear under the petticoat.”

“Isn’t that—?” His cheeks turned a little red as he carefully accepted the wand.

“In between my butt cheeks? Yep. Sacrifices must be made to look beautiful,” I said, thinking back to  _ Wonder Woman  _ and how she hid her sword. 

“My robes come with a couple loops up the sleeve,” Tom said, gesturing to one of his sleeves. 

“Oh. Shoot, then you can hold onto it for the night,” I said dismissively. “My buttcheeks don’t need the work out.”

“Ah. Okay.”

“Sorry, too personal?”

“We’ve been sharing the same body for years and  _ now  _ you’re asking if it’s too personal?” he said dryly. 

“Point.”

Tom twirled my wand a couple of times. “There is one more thing to do before we go.”

I cocked my head. He held out his right hand, using the wand in his left as he transfigured a spare button into a beautiful blue rose. With a smile that would make a weak woman swoon, Tom Riddle presented it to me. 

“If you say something as cheesy as  _ a rose for my Rose, _ I  _ will  _ squeal. Loudly,” I warned, wagging my finger at him. 

There was a moment of silence as Tom processed that. Then he gently placed the rose in my hair, looked me dead in the eye and said, “A rose for my Rose.”

I squealed loudly, bursting out into peals of giggles as I covered my burning face. “ _ How _ ? How can you say that with a straight face?”

I wasn’t looking at Tom, but I thought I felt a smile in his voice as he said, “Because I know your reactions make it worthwhile.”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Iris got us up and out of the Chambers. We snuck out of the bathroom, fixed up our masks, then headed toward the Great Hall. Tom was a lovely escort. Despite having longer legs, he kept pace with me so I felt no need to rush or try to match his speed in my dress and heels. Which was great. I could wear heels fine and dandy, but I didn’t think I could run in them. We did draw a fair few looks. There weren’t many red-heads in the school, and my hair was noticeably darker than the Weasley family. A lot of people could pick me out from a crowd from my hair color alone. 

Tom and I arrived a few minutes before it was time for the ball to begin. There was a crowd of students, each chattering with their dates or friends. Tom and I stood separate from the others. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I forgot the smell of Hogwarts.”

“It  _ does  _ have its own smell, doesn’t it?” I mused. “I wonder if someone could turn it into a candle.”

“Who would buy that?”

“I would. You  _ wouldn’t _ ?”

Tom considered it after a moment. “I suppose it would be nice to have on hand.”

“Light it up on a cool rainy day,” I said lightly. “Huddle under a warm blanket and read another mystery. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

“You paint a lovely picture, Rosie.”

Then Professor McGonagall’s voice called, “Champions over here, please!”

I gripped onto Tom’s arm as he escorted me over to Professor McGonagall. I could feel the curious eyes of many students fall upon me. I knew a fair few of them would be wondering who was escorting the Hogwarts Champion. 

The chattering crowd parted to let us through. Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan, told us to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; we were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. Hermione looked exceptionally gorgeous next to Krum. Daphne had done wonders to tame her bushy hair into something sleek, shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. 

The Great Hall opened up and the other students were allowed in. I got a chance to see my friends with their partners. Draco and Pansy were matching in white, while Theodore and Tracey coordinated with green. 

I couldn’t help but gasp when I saw that my twin brother was escorting Daphne Greengrass of all people. The two popped out with their black and scarlet color coordination. Daphne was a queen above reproach and she raised her chin up proudly. Harry, who had offered her his arm, nodded at me as he passed by.

_ How? I must know the story behind  _ that.

I knew I was a busy person, but how in the hell did I miss that? 

Good for them! I had no clue if they were going as friends or something more, but either way, good for them!

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the us—the champions and our partners—to get in line in pairs and to follow her. We did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as we entered and walked up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges sat.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

The flooring had been enchanted to sparkle as if we were walking on enchanted ice that reflected the starry ceiling. There were sparkles of magic in the air reminiscent of fairy dust that twinkled. The entire Hall had been transformed into something out of a winter fairy court. 

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, his twinkling eyes zeroed in on Tom. Then his smile broke out into an almost gleeful grin.

_ Yeah, no way he’d be that happy if he thought Tom flippity flappity Riddle was taking me,  _ I thought with relief.  _ Phew, crisis averted.  _

All the students wore masks, but none of the adults which was fine. The important part was to make sure that Tom’s mask wouldn’t draw attention. It would be too odd if only my escort wore a mask to the Yule Ball. 

Tom, ever the gentleman, pulled out my chair for me at the table before he took a seat beside me. 

There was no food yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each. 

Professor Dumbledore took the lead by reading out  _ pork chops  _ from the menu and the food magically appeared on his plate. Others soon followed behind him. Tom and I both got the steak, although he loaded his up with more mashed potatoes and buttered rolls while I added a fair bit of vegetables. I couldn’t blame him. He literally hadn’t eaten anything in decades. If I hadn’t had mashed potatoes and rolls in decades I’d be craving it too.

“Oh,” came the small voice of Tom after his first bite into the food.

“Missed it?” I asked him.

“Surprisingly,” he admitted. “It’s the little things in life, I suppose.”

“After tonight, we can keep working on… your situation,” I said quietly. 

“I’d appreciate it.”

Talk around the table was amicable. Tom didn’t speak much—likely concerned Dumbledore would recognize his voice if he did—so I had to compensate by chatting a lot more than what I would have liked. Thankfully, I had a lot of practice in babbling with Booboo last year. 

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it. The Weird Sisters trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn.

Tom and I stood up, as did the other champions as it was time for the opening dance. 

The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune. Tom placed a warm hand on my lower back, pulling me into the dance as the music began. All that practice with Draco had paid off. Tom and I moved with reasonable grace—him more so than I because  _ of course  _ Tom Marvolo Riddle was a good dancer why  _ wouldn’t  _ he be. 

Bastard.

He smoothly moved me around the floor. I could feel the eyes of hundreds of students upon us, yet no nerves came from that. The only butterflies I felt was from feeling how close he was to me. It was a surreal sensation, like something out of a fever dream. When the first song ended, the rest of the students joined us on the floor. Tom and I continued to dance. I couldn’t speak on his behalf anymore; his expression was impossible to read and I could no longer feel his magic, but I hoped he enjoyed dancing with me as much as I enjoyed dancing with him. 

Into the third song, Tom’s eyes were focused on my own. It was hard not to look away from embarrassment. He had a naturally intense gaze, but with it being wholly focused on me while we danced—

My whole face felt hot. His lips twitched, not giving way to a smile but certainly displaying amusement. 

He leaned closer to me as he danced. We were so tightly pressed together I wasn’t sure if it was wholly appropriate, but no one was separating so I wasn’t going to complain. He whispered, “You seem to be having fun.”

“I am,” I admitted, a trail of goosebumps crawled down my back at his whispered voice. “I hope you are?”

“It’s nice,” he said then gave me a twirl. “Hogwarts never had a ball when I attended, but some of my… acquaintances had similar events.”

“Wow. I hope I’m your favorite partner,” I teased.

“By a—ah, what did you call it? A long shot?” he assured me.

“Awww. You’re using modern lingo. You’re adorable.”

“From hot to adorable. Is that an—ah—an upgrade or a downgrade?”

“Don’t be silly, Tom. You’ll never stop being hot.”

We danced for another ten songs, our banter coming easily. He did get a couple embarrassed squeaks out of me when he jokingly flirted. Even without heat behind it, Tom had some ridiculous game. 

Despite being asexual and uninterested in courting, Tom had the natural charisma to act otherwise. 

_ Is he aromantic, too?  _ I idly wondered as we played around. 

I wanted to ask, but since Tom had denied ever being in a proper relationship I wasn’t sure if  _ he  _ even knew. Whatever he was, I was inordinately happy being able to joke with him. To me, it felt like our friendship was progressing into something healthy and strong. 

“I’m getting a little tired,” I told Tom after the eleventh dance. 

“Want to move somewhere more private?” he asked. I giggled out of nervous reflex, my mind jumping to other thoughts.

“What, like a broom cupboard?” I teased.

“Maybe later.”

I snorted, biting my lip hard to keep from chortling. Tom’s eyes sparkled with mirth, and he escorted me out of the hall. The professors had set up the courtyard into a quieter spot for people to relax and converse. They had brought out dozens upon dozens of rose bushes, each twinkling with fairies around them, and an assortment of floating lit candles. Only a few professors were standing guard outside to make sure none of the students used the bushes to— _ ahem _ —get better acquainted. 

Tom and I carefully weaved through the students outside, slipping past the courtyard. We moved further away from the castle until we found a lovely spot hidden from view. Tom pulled out my wand and transfigured a random pebble into a stone bench. He waved it again, silently muttering the spells as he conjured rose bushes like before and summoned the fairies to be our lights.

I took a seat on the bench beside him, my feet aching from being in heels. 

December was chilly, and there was snow on the ground, but Tom had enchanted the area to stay warm. Under the clear night sky, we sat in comfortable silence. Neither of us felt compelled to fill it with unnecessary talk, both content to relax and enjoy the mood.

We were seated close together. Tom kept an arm around my waist so I leaned into him. It was comforting. I missed being able to randomly cuddle someone. At home, I could do it with Harry whenever, but it was a lot harder to do so at Hogwarts since we lived in separate Houses. 

The clock chimed midnight which meant the ball was over and it was time to leave. I made a move to stand up, but—

“Don’t,” Tom sharply said, his voice barely above a whisper but it held a steel undertone. His hand on my waist squeezed as he pulled me closer to him in a subtle, but clear, act of dominance. 

That was always going to be a juggle with Tom. Superior and inferior were the only statuses of his relationships. Our friendship had come close to equal, but it wasn’t there yet. Maybe it wasn’t intentional, but Tom still sought a dominant position.

Outright denying him would harm our relationship. He wasn’t interested in someone who sought to critique and defy him at any point—there were enemies who did that plenty. 

There was really only one way to handle that kind of move without setting him off. 

Coyly, I took his other hand and placed it against my cheek. In a soft, husky tone I said, “My. Tom, you should know that kind of tone should be reserved for the bedroom.”

He froze.

I couldn’t see his face behind the mask but OH BOY I bet he was flustered! I kept my smile small so he wouldn’t think I was making fun of him. 

“Oh? Were you wanting to go to a broom cupboard now?” he retorted evasively, recovering from my surprise flirt attack. 

“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” I returned, my cheeks reddening again. I steeled my nerves and fought against the desire to run away. No matter how flustered or embarrassed he made me, I didn’t want him to think he’d drive me off so easily. He pulled me back on the bench, snaking his arm tighter around me. 

He leaned forward, his nose touching mine as he was about to—

I held up a finger against his lips.

“Don’t start something you don’t mean,” I gently warned him.

He had said he had never taken a girlfriend or boyfriend. He hadn’t gone on dates. But Tom Riddle wasn’t an idiot, and he knew exactly what others must have thought of him. I wouldn’t put past him to use his appearance and sexuality to his advantage to manipulate or charm others to him. 

He may not have considered them partners.

But there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that “romance” was simply another tool for him to use. 

He pulled back, a frown on his face. 

“Tom, you have my support,” I softly said. “You don’t need to turn this relationship into something more if you don’t want more. I care about you. I want you to be happy.”

“Then listen to me.”

See, we both knew that listen meant obey, but it would be impolite to point that out so I opted to take the word at face value.

“I will always listen to you, Tom,” I promised him. I moved my hand back up to gently cup his face. He leaned into my palm, his dark eyes unreadable. “I’m here for you.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, maybe two, then he leaned in again.

I closed my eyes, accepting the brief kiss on my lips. It was cool, sweet, and gentle. It hadn’t been intended as a passionate romantic snog, but rather a—

_ Thank you. _

“You’re welcome,” I told him with a smile.

His smile in return was small, awkward, and I think maybe even sincere.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Bucket List Completed:**

  1. Have a hot date to the Yule Ball. 



**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big appreciation for the lovely Cantrona who drew Rosie and Tom dancing at the Yule Ball! Rosie’s dress is mindbogglingly beautiful. Watty and ao3 users got to see the picture in the chapter but my darling ff.net users will have to go to the link to see it--or read the chapter on wattpad/ao3.  Link: https://www.instagram.com/p/CLo_NF3FoL_/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
> 
> Welcome to my accidental slow burn that I have written myself into and will now ride into hell. 
> 
> This is the first of the named chapters because I have a feeling some of my readers may want to come back to re-read this specific chapter again after the story is done. The next named chapter will be The Greatest Heist in year 5. 
> 
> I’m not an asexual with manipulative and sociopathic tendencies. How I’m writing Tom was done through my own research so apologies if I’ve offended any asexuals out there who feel I have miswritten their sexuality with him. 
> 
> **Answer:**  
>  If I was mentally an adult I’d rather not have any children romantically ask me, but I think it’d be fun to go as a friend with Luna Lovegood or Harry Potter! Back when I was a kiddo reading the books I remember wishing I could go with Tom Riddle or Fleur. 
> 
> **Question:**  
>  If you went to a masquerade, what mask would you wear? 
> 
> Reviews are   
>  **love**  
>  !


	33. Year 4 - 7

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Tom Riddle’s first attempt at a homunculus body was a remarkable achievement. 

It turned into a literal pile of ash an hour after midnight, but the fact that it worked at all was impressive. The Horcrux returned to me shortly after—a stipulation Tom had written into the ritual as a fail-safe, which I thought was neat. 

I changed out of my dress and into something comfortable before I swept up the ash, tossed it in a bin, put away the dress robes, then enjoyed sleeping in my nice warm bed.

As much as I would have loved sleeping in on Boxing Day like the rest of my snakes, I had to get up in order to sneak Snape’s Christmas present into his office before he noticed. He kept tossing them out, but I was putting in an honest effort. 

**“Your brown-nosing could use work,** ” Tom chided in my head as I headed off. 

_ “I’m not  _ trying  _ to be a kiss ass for the brownie points. He used to be my mom’s best friend. They had a falling out before she died, and I know it’s something she regretted. _ ”

Snape had been a taboo subject in the Potter house, but I did distinctly remember Lily crying on his birthday and James consoling her. From the bits and pieces of conversation I had unintentionally listened to, Snape and Lily did not part ways over him insulting her or joining the Death Eaters. No, no. It had been an absolute Dramageddon.

I didn’t know all the details, but I knew it started after James got on his knees and apologized to Severus for his bullying. Lily encouraged Snape to move past the hatred—not because she fancied James, it was well before they were dating—but because she didn’t want to see him consumed by his hatred of James. Snape flipped out on her and so began Dramageddon. 

The ultimate result was James comforting Lily and Snape spurning her away for an entire  _ year _ .

A  _ year _ .

He ignored her over summer break, so when they returned to Hogwarts and he joined the Death Eater’s and started calling her a Mudblood it broke her. 

As I was not there, nor did I know all the gritty details, I couldn’t claim which side was on the right or which was on the wrong. At a glance, they were both at fault. Lily’s intentions were good, but a friend should never push their hurt companion to forgive if they weren’t ready. Forgiveness was not a right for the abuser; nor an obligation for the victim to hand out. It was something the victim needed to come to terms with first. As his friend, Lily should have supported him instead of pushing him. On the flip side, Snape overreacted. No matter how triggering or hurtful Lily was, blowing up on her wouldn’t do him any good. In fact, it did the opposite and drove her straight into James’ arms. 

If only the two had properly communicated with one another. Would Snape had still joined the Death Eaters—maybe as a spy right from the get-go? Or would he have found peace with Lily? 

The shittiest part of it all was that Lily died before any kind of closure could be met. He never had a chance to apologize, or talk things through, let alone express his pent up emotions. He had so much pain and anger, and no one to vent it out to.

I doubt I could ever become a friend to Snape—I had been actively trying for literally years by that point and at best I was tolerated—but I wish I could do  _ something. _

_ “I wish I knew what Mom would do,”  _ I admitted to Tom. 

**_“What would you do?”_ **

_ “Hm?” _

**_“If the situations were different… if it was_ ** **your** **_daughter trying to make amends on your behalf, what would you tell her?”_ **

_ “Depends.” _

**_“On?”_ **

_ “How much I loved my friend, I guess. I’d have to love them an awful lot to place that burden on my own child.” _

Tom was silent as I moved through the halls. 

**_“Then… what would you tell your daughter if_ ** **I** **_was your friend? If we had a falling out right before you died?”_ **

_ “You’re much more different from Professor Snape. You’re nowhere near as petty.” _

**_“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”_ **

I rolled my eyes.  _ “Okay, I’ll play along. I would want my daughter to pass along my regrets. Whatever argument we had, I would want her to tell you it was stupid and I’m glad I could be your friend for however long I had. I’d want her to tell you how much I care about you, and that I truly and sincerely wish you could be happy. _ ”

**_“Don’t you think your mother would feel the same?”_ **

_ “I—I suppose so, yes. But I was pretty young when she was… still alive. I don’t think Professor Snape would believe me. _ ”

**_“And you have no proof?_ ** ”

I faltered in my footsteps, memories of that time in the Potter house flickering behind my eyes. As soon as I had set up my mind palace I went out of my way to try and preserve those memories in hopes of being able to share them with Harry one day. I thought back to January 9th, 1981. Snape’s birthday, and the first time I had witnessed Lily cry over him. She held me and Harry in her arms as she tried to show us a photo album. 

There was something else, something dearly important to us that she showed us. She kept it on her nightstand, and treated it with delicate care. 

_ “You’re brilliant.” _

**_“I know._ ** _ ” _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

It took three hours for Kreacher to find the item I was thinking about. The Potter home had gone through a terrible explosion from the magical backlash, but it was mostly concentrated in the baby room. Sirius, Remus, Molly, Arthur, and other adults I didn’t remember much about, packed up everything else that remained. They were stored in the attic of our current home, waiting for me and Harry to go through to decide what to keep and what to let go.

Sirius didn’t want to make that decision for us. 

Some items were locked up until we were an adult, or had reached a certain stage. I knew all the records pertaining to the Potter properties and investments were out of our reach until we were eighteen. Lily’s experimental books were locked up tight until we had a N.E.W.T in alchemy, charms, and potions. The Potter fortune was inaccessible to us until we were eighteen—Sirius kept the key to the vaults—and so on. 

Lily’s spellbook we received last Christmas was the first heirloom from our mother. Harry read it with reverence, eager to learn each spell inside. It was a good thing Remus and Sirius had waited until we were in our third year to give us the book, as we definitely would have tried the spells ASAP and some of them were dangerous to get wrong. We were old enough to learn how to take care of ourselves during a spell mishap. 

When Kreacher finally found the item, I left my dorm room and went straight to Professor Snape’s office. It was locked, per usual, but that never stopped me before and it certainly wasn’t going to stop me any time soon.

A silent, wandless, Alohamora took care of that. I slipped into the room, clutching at the item. 

It was a glass doe. Lily had told us, with a sad smile, that her dear friend conjured it for her to congratulate her on finally casting the Patronus charm she struggled so much with. Small, silly, yet oh so important because of what it meant to her. 

I set the glass doe on Professor Snape’s desk just as the aforementioned professor swooped in.

“Right. Your  _ gift _ ,” he drawled out, his tone dripped in venom. “Why don’t you save me the effort of tossing it out myse—”

He stopped when he noticed what I had placed on his desk.

“What is that?” he asked, his voice cold as his dark eyes glittered with ill-concealed disdain.

“She left us a journal of spells you know, and in the margins, she’d written little notes,” I said, stepping away from the desk so he could approach it, “One of them was about this. She kept it next to her bed every night. You were her friend, weren’t you?”

Professor Snape did not respond. He swept past me, carefully picking up the glass doe.

“She loved you,” I told him quietly, softly. The lump in my throat made it hard to get the words out. “I—I don’t know the details, but I know my mom would want you to know that. Whatever happened she—she regretted. A lot. I’m sorry my gifts have been a hassle, but if I were in her shoes and if I—if I had a friend that she loved half as much as she loved you, I’d want my child to pass that on. Merry Christmas, Professor Snape.”

Professor Snape did not respond, nor did he look at me. His dark gaze was fixated on the glass doe he had made for his childhood friend. 

A silly little item, he had told her. But what made it so terribly special, and what drove Lily to keep it by her nightstand every night, was the fact that it was something that was made with his magic.

As long as he was alive, the doe would remain.

Every night, I knew, Lily would check on that doe and hope with all her heart that it was still there. 

I quietly left the room, rubbing at my eyes. I wasn’t so optimistic to think a little gift would drastically change Professor Snape or his viewpoints. 

At the very least, I hoped it would convey what Lily wished she could have said:  _ No matter how bad things got between us, I didn’t stop caring about you. _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

First lesson at the start of the new term was Hagrid’s class. 

Admittedly, I had completely forgotten about Hagrid’s giant origins being found out. The newspaper was passed around Slytherin common room before breakfast, and there was some prejudicial slander tossed about. The snakes had no real heat behind their resentment, merely regurgitating the racism passed down from their parents.

My gut reaction was to take away the paper and lecture them, but my rational side held me back. I chose not to fight that specific battle, wanting instead to see how far my babeh snakes had come. I was working on undoing over a decade worth of brainwashing, after all. It was time to see how far I had come with them. If I gave a firm opinion on it, a majority of my Slytherins would repeat whatever I said without meaning it. To see how they truly felt and assess how much further I needed to go, I provided ambiguous and passive responses. 

When some of my snakes pushed for a firmer answer, I recited, “It’s inefficient to judge someone based on blood.”

Some of my snakes had accepted it broadly enough to not immediately scorn Hagrid. Others argued that only applied to those who could use a wand. 

I did not refute either side, wanting to hear them to come to their own conclusions. 

To my delightful surprise, my babeh snakes actually  _ debated _ the merits of bloodlines at all. The majority still accepted that pure-bloods were superior to Muggle-borns,  _ BUT _ Muggle-borns had the potential to set up powerful heirs in the future under the right guidance. 

Say it with me.

PROGRESS!

They still thought Hagrid being a half-giant made him dirty and beneath him, but they also thought that  _ hey  _ maybe some of these Muggle-borns in our year could make some excellent pure-blood grand-babies for our grand-babies.

P-R-O-G-R-E-S-S!

Returning to the situation at hand.

The  _ Daily Prophet _ released a rather scathing article on Hagrid’s origins that the snakes tossed about. The overall consensus was that Hagrid was beneath them, but harmless. No one felt any urge to go out of their way to mock him, as they felt openly insulting someone with their blood-status was a dull and lazy insult.

_ Sweet, sweet progress.  _

They were perfectly happy with mocking his obsessive love for those disgusting skrewts which I was totally okay with because yeah those things were gross. Hagrid, what the hell were you thinking?

Snow was still thick upon the grounds, and the greenhouse windows were covered in condensation so thick that no one could see inside them as we trekked past them to Hagrid’s hut.

As it was freezing cold outside, I had on my boots, gloves, scarf, hat, and the thickest Hogwarts cloak I had. My fellow peers were the same. Nobody was looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures much in that weather. 

On the bright side, I got a chance to properly talk with Harry since the Yule Ball. I ran up to my brother, hooking my arm through his as I asked, “So you and Daphne?”

“Before you go further,” Harry said, “ _ no _ . We went as friends. I didn’t want to—er—you know.”

“Have an actual date?”

“Yeah. I asked Daphne if that’d be okay with her—Hermione already said she had a date—and she agreed. I had to let her pick whatever I’m wearing, do everything she said.”

“Ah. You’re not gonna ask her out again?”

Harry hesitated, a small smile on his face. “Maybe. She’s easy to talk to, and, you know.”

“ _ Gorgeous _ ?”

“Very,” he agreed. “I figured I’ve got another month before I need to worry about Valentine's Day. What about you?”

“My date?” At my question, I could feel more gazes on me than before. We weren’t being quiet about our conversation, but we weren’t being obnoxiously loud about it. Harry wasn’t the type to care about gossip—he was shy, but not due to any lack of self-confidence. 

Draco stepped up beside me. “Who  _ was  _ your date?” 

Pansy echoed, “Yeah, I didn’t recognize that hair  _ at all _ . And I know  _ everyone’s  _ hair.”

I smiled. “Who indeed?”

“Bloody hell, Rosie,” sighed Harry. 

We had arrived at Hagrid’s cabin, though, and we found an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair and a very prominent chin standing before his front door.

“Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago,” she barked at us as we struggled toward her through the snow.

“Who’re you?” I heard Ron ask from behind me. 

“My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank,” she said briskly. “I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher.”

“Where’s Hagrid?” Harry repeated loudly.

“He is indisposed,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank shortly.

“Indisposed?” parroted Hermione suspiciously. 

“This way, please,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and she strode off around the paddock where the Beauxbatons horses were shivering.

“What’s wrong with Hagrid?” Harry said, hurrying to catch up with Professor Grubbly-Plank.

“Never you mind,” she said as though she thought he was being nosy.

“I do mind, though,” said Harry hotly. “What’s up with him?”

Professor Grubbly-Plank acted as though she couldn’t hear him. She led them past the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses were standing, huddled against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn was tethered.

Many of the girls “ooooohed!” at the sight of the unicorn.

Harry immediately looked over at me, a big stupid grin on his face. “Rosie, it’s—”

“Finish that and I’ll make your summer  _ hell _ ,” I hissed out in warning.

His grin didn’t waver, but he wisely didn’t finish. 

“Oh it’s so beautiful!” whispered Lavender Brown. “How did she get it? They’re supposed to be really hard to catch!”

The unicorn was so brightly white it made the snow all around look gray. It was pawing the ground nervously with its golden hooves and throwing back its horned head.

_ “It is… rather pretty,”  _ I begrudgingly admitted. The unicorn had an alluring glow to it.

“Boys keep back!” barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, “They prefer the woman’s touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it...”

I headed in with the other girls, following Professor Grubbly-Plank's instructions. The unicorn was shy, but she did allow each of us to pet her. 

_ Ah. She’s so soft and warm,  _ I thought as I fought against the desire to nuzzle the unicorn. 

**_“Fond of unicorns?”_ ** asked an amused Tom.

_ “If anything they make me think of my family.”  _ After a moment of hesitation, I finally admitted, “ _ I have… thought about, you know… keeping some when I'm an adult. Their hair is a powerful ingredient in potions, rituals, alchemy and whatnot.” _

**_“You have a kind enough heart I think you could._ ** _ ” _

_ “You think I’m kind?” _

**_“In your own way. I think you would be a good Healer if the thieving job gets boring.”_ **

_ “I doubt that’ll ever get boring, but being a Healer would be a good cover. Thanks, Tom.” _

**_“No need to thank me. I am only being honest._ **

_ “Gosh. Handsome, smart, and knows exactly what to say to make me smile. You’re such a catch.” _

**_“Have I caught you?”_ **

_ “Aha.” _ I coughed, hoping the cold air could excuse how red my face had likely become.  _ “You gotta stop calling out my bluffs, Tom. You’re going to give me a heart attack at this rate.” _

**_“Perish the thought. I’d never want to give you a heart attack, Rosie,”_** said Tom in a tone that bordered on sultry. **_“Some fluttering should be fine, though, right?”_**

_ “Oh, dear. I’ve awoken a monster.” _

**_“Afraid to be eaten up?_ ** _ ” _

_ “OH MY GOD TOM! YOU CANNOT JUST SAY THAT! AHHHHHHHHH!” _

I had to bury my face into the fur of the unicorn to keep from squealing out loud. The unicorn snorted softly, turning her head and nipping at my hair. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle laughed. Actually laughed. As in a full-blown, loud, chortling laughter. 

And yes, it was absolutely lovely. 

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Potions later on in the week was… surprisingly calm. Professor Snape was silent as he watched us partner up and brew some antidote. When it was over, I was caught off guard by his quiet voice saying, “Miss Potter, stay behind.”

I lingered in the classroom as my babeh snakes filtered out into the hallway. Professor Snape’s tone wasn’t dripping in malice, nor did he glare at me like he had in previous years.

In fact… he was downright neutral. True neutral. Not a  _ I tolerate you _ neutral, but I genuinely could not tell if he liked or disliked me. He had a perfect poker face. 

_ I knew he was supposed to be a good spy and all but I never thought I’d see such a perfect mask,  _ I thought, genuinely impressed by it. 

“You said she had a spellbook?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” I said with an easy smile, relieved I wasn’t about to get scolded or something. The Saturday detentions were bad enough. I pulled the white leather book out of my black messenger bag. “One for both of us. Lots of little house spells and some things she made herself.”

She did write about Snape a little bit in the journal. She didn’t name him, but she did write an entire chapter about how important it was to communicate with your friends. She made small references to him in the margins of certain spells they crafted together. It wasn’t hard to put the hints together to figure out she was talking about Snape. 

I held it out to Snape, and the man accepted it. His face, which was normally contorted in a scowl around me, was perfectly blank. I could read no emotions from his gaze, nor his expression.

I had thought Tom’s angelic poker face was impressive, but Snape’s neutral mask was something to behold. I could see how the man passed as a spy for so long with a blank expression like that. 

He did not react as he flipped through it. He asked me, “Have you practiced these spells?”

“Some of them in my free time,” I admitted. 

Silence fell into the room. Normally I’d take the opportunity to babble, but there was too much awkwardness between us for me to feel comfortable to do that. Or, rather,  _ I  _ felt awkward. I wanted to give him privacy to read but I definitely didn’t want to  _ give  _ him my mother’s notebook. Some irrationally childish side of me worried if I left the room with him still holding onto it, I might have never seen it again.

It was clearly important to him. He read certain pages over and over again, his finger tracing along her handwriting.

_ Maybe I should make a copy of it for him, _ I thought. Snape struck me as the type to have been petty and angry enough to throw out everything she gave him when he joined the Death Eaters. If he had nothing of hers to hold onto anymore…

He, at least, had not thrown out the glass doe. Er, well, I didn’t see it in the trash can nor on his desk.

Would it help him to have something of hers? Or would it enable his obsessive nature? 

Hard to say. 

_ What can I—Oh.  _

“Professor Snape?” I tentatively asked him, resisting the urge to fidget. 

His eyes flicked up to meet mine. “What is it, Miss Potter?”

“May I—May I show you a spell I was practicing?” 

He lowered the notebook enough to regard me. It was unnerving to be assessed with such a blank expression. For a second it was not Professor Snape who studied me, but a woman whose gaze was never warm when it rested upon me. Always expecting more than what I could give, and  _ always _ disappointed when I failed to live up to it.

Swallowing hard, I pulled out a fishbowl from my expendable black messenger bag, and one of the lily petals I kept inside it. 

Originally, I planned on using the spell to coerce Slughorn into inviting me into his little club if I wasn’t already getting an invitation. I had a feeling he would somehow come back to Hogwarts given how strong the Power of Plot was. 

With shaky hands, I gently placed it upon his desk and filled it with magical water from my wand. I dropped the lily petal onto the surface. 

It had no words. It was a simple charm made by a sweet girl who wanted to give her favorite professor something special. 

The petal fell into the water, subtly sparkling as it transformed into pretty white betta fish.

Professor Snape stared at the fish for several more seconds before he handed me back the notebook and said, “Head along now, Miss Potter.”

“Yes, Professor.”

The fishbowl remained on his desk for the rest of his time at Hogwarts.

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware the patient fox.
> 
> See y’all next Thursday!
> 
> **Answer:** A butterfly mask. 
> 
> **Question:** Favorite ship or pairing in this fandom? :) 
> 
> Reviews are  **love** !


	34. Year 4 - 8

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Mid-January, I decided it was time to double-check the egg. Or, well, Draco had opened it up in the common room earlier on in the week, and it screamed shrilly at everyone so I had to deal with it. I feigned surprise with everyone else, listening to them debate on what it could mean. 

To my surprise, it was  _ Tom  _ who said,  **_“Sounds like a mermaid above water.”_ **

_ “How could you possibly know that?” _

He chose not to answer that and I decided I really didn’t want to know. 

On Friday evening, I donned a swimsuit and took a dip in a large bath provided by the Room of Requirement. I opened the egg underwater and listened to the poem presented. 

_ “Come seek us where our voices sound,  _

_ We cannot sing above the ground,  _

_ And while you’re searching, ponder this:  _

_ We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,  _

_ An hour long you’ll have to look,  _

_ And to recover what we took,  _

_ But past an hour the prospect’s black,  _

_ Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.” _

“Pretty straight forward,” I said out loud as I climbed out of the tub to write it down. 

**_“Sounds like you might have to fight merpeople underwater. That is an unenviable task.”_ **

_ “Yeah. I don’t suppose you know any spells to help a girl out?” _

Tom hesitated.  **_“There—There are certain Dark rituals that use merpeople as sacrifices and in turn will grant the caster the ability to breathe underwater indefinitely._ ** _ ” _

I paused in drying myself off.  _ Is that how Tom knows what a merperson sounds like above water? _

_ “Does it work?” _

**_“I would say that it is not worth it. One of the downsides to using a Dark ritual is the price to be paid._ ** _ ” _

_ “What’s the difference between a regular ritual and a Dark one? Just the sacrifice?” _

**_“What’s needed to power the ritual. It is considered a Dark ritual if body parts of a sentient creature are needed, or if a price must be paid to complete it. A legal ritual is something that can be solely powered by one wizard.”_ **

Tom was silent for a minute before he continued,  **_“If a ritual is considered unstable—as in it does not always work as intended—it is also considered Dark. This is because when a ritual goes awry it will_ ** **take** **_a sacrifice. A witch could lose her voice forever, or a wizard might lose a piece of his mind. There is always a risk in powerful rituals, ergo most powerful rituals are considered Dark._ ** ”

_ “Interesting. Would your homunculus ritual be considered Dark?” _

**_“Oh definitely. I would be considered an ingredient, and a soul is_ ** **highly** **_illegal to use._ ** _ ” _

_ “Oooo. How scandalous!” _

**_“Terribly so. Dreadfully sorry to be coercing you down this… Dark path.”_ **

_ “My dear, I’ll sprint down it if you’re at the end.” _

He snorted derisively. **_“How fortuitous of me._** **_Returning to your more immediate problem..._** _”_

_ “Yes. I do have something of an idea after talking with you.” _

**_“Already?”_ **

_ “Mn. I mean… can you see anything in the poem that explicitly states I  _ have  _ to go into the lake?” _

**_“Not… directly, no. You must retrieve whatever they take._ ** _ ” _

_ “Yes. The obvious route would be to enter the lake then, wouldn’t it?” _

**_“Yes.”_ **

_ “What kind of thief uses the obvious route?” _

**_“My, my.”_ **

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

The next couple of weeks went by without fuss. I was able to confirm with Professor Snape that I would be allowed any item I could carry to the second task which made my plan infinitely easier. Come early February, it was time to act. 

It was a bitterly cold, dark, and wet morning for the second task. 

_ “Gosh, if only they had done it on a warmer day. I would have  _ loved  _ to show off my swimsuit,”  _ I complained to Tom. 

**_“A loss for them.”_ **

_ “Indeed! _ ”

I trekked down to the lake with Daphne. I carried my broom in one hand, and my messenger bag was slung over my shoulder. She and I were dressed warmly, both in stylish black winter cloaks, matching Slytherin scarves, and wool caps. It was hard to wear a bun under a hat, so my hair was in a low ponytail for the day, which Daphne thought looked very nice on me.

She tutted at me as we marched through the snow, “Your curls are so nice. I don’t know why you keep hiding them in a bun.”

“I like having long hair, but it’s a hassle when brewing potions.”

“How often do you brew potions to warrant keeping your hair in a bun  _ that  _ often?” she retorted with, rolling her eyes.

“There’s a reason I keep a cauldron and still in my bedroom,” I said dryly.

Daphne’s eyes narrowed. “It wouldn’t hurt to let it down sometimes.”

“I suppose,” came my dubious response.

“There are some girls who would pay good money to get curls like yours.”

I glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Would you?”

Daphne scoffed. “People pay to have luxurious hair like mine,  _ not  _ the other way around.”

“Maybe I should go blonde then,” I said, pulling out one of the stray strands and examining it. 

Daphne grabbed me by the shoulders and whirled me around. Her gray-blue eyes assessed me coolly as she examined me. “Hmm. Your complexion could work with blonde. Personally, I’d like to see you in silver.”

I gasped at her. “ _ Silver _ ? No way I could pull that off.”

“Why not?” she said haughtily. “Your red hair has a cool tone, it’d mesh well with other cool-tones.”

As someone not well-versed in the beauty realm, I couldn’t refute or agree with that statement. “What about black?” 

“Everyone does red and black,” she said. “You’d look lovely, of course, but I want to see you in something different.”

“Okay—what about purple?”

Daphne stared at me in disbelief. “ _ Purple _ ?”

I smirked at her. “You said you wanted to see something different.”

“Different, not chaotic. Purple wouldn’t go well with your hair  _ and  _ eyes. It’d be fighting for attention!”

“What about red and orange?”

“Stop talking.”

“Red and yellow—”

Daphne started to hit me in the shoulder, repeatedly. “Stop your blasphemy on fashion!”

Giggling, I said, “Red and pink?”

She paused, considering it, then continued to hit me. “No!”

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

Out on the docks of the lake, I waited for Bagman to officially blow the whistle to start the second task. I was amused to find that my competitors were already shivering in the cold air, Fleur tossing envious looks at my cloak. 

My broom levitated on the air as I took a seat sideways on it. I had no intentions of zipping around on it. I could feel the curious gazes of the students and judges, as I was the only contestant still in their winter cloak.

_ No way in hell am I swimming in that damn lake while there’s still snow on the ground. _

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One... two... three!”

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause. Fleur and Victor dove into the water while I lazily floated above it on my broom. With a wave of my wand I softly said, “ _ Fax Visp _ .”

Very similar to the bluebell fire taught in first year, the spell brought to life balls of blue flame. It was the step up to the bluebell charm, as the fires conjured by Fax Visp would not extinguish from water. They were harmless—they couldn’t be used to light a fire—but very bright. When left alone they would linger around the witch, and if enough of them were summoned they’d hover closer to the head to form a crown of fire. 

Pretty, but only good for a light.

Yawning as I flew, I pulled out the potion I had been brewing for the past week. 

Drop of Clarity, a semi-advanced potion used by Cursebreakers. One drop of it in water would instantly illuminate and make it visibly crystal clear. It would only last ten minutes or so in a set area, but that would be plenty of time. I sprinkled drops of the potion over the lake as I flew. That, in conjunction with the Will-o-Wisp spell, would grant me near-perfect vision over the lake. I would find Harry in no time without needing to get my feet wet.

I shot the wisps down into the water and they lit up the lake below. I could see the lights startled some creatures, and it made me all the happier that I did not have to go swimming with the things I saw. 

The giant squid looked rather grotesque and like it ought to have belonged to one of Lovecraft’s works, not Rowling’s.

I had gone through about half the bottle of potion before I finally found Harry and the others. It was hard to see, but the giant swarm of merpeople around them made it a lot easier to spot from an aerial viewpoint.

All that was left now was to break the chains, summon Harry into my arms, and fly back.

I took a very careful aim with my wand, picking the spot beneath the chains. I only needed to free Harry enough that my Accio wouldn’t hurt him when I used it on him. 

“ _ Bombarda _ ,” I said, firing the spell at the rocks at the base of the chains. They exploded, and whatever was holding the chain to the rocks broke. Harry began to float to the surface and I rapidly used my Accio.

My twin shot out of the water like a rocket, spluttering upon breaching the surface. He landed in my lap, soaking wet, cold, and already shivering. He coughed and said, “Hey Rosie.”

“Hey Harry.”

“Kinda chilly.”

“Mm-hmm,” I said, casting the drying charms on my brother as we began to slowly fly back. 

He sneezed. “I tried to convince them to pick your boyfriend instead.”

“How’d that go?”

“They kept thinking you loved me more.”

I kissed his cheek. “I mean that’s a fair assessment. I do like you quite a bit.”

Harry chuckled and kissed the top of my forehead. “What a coincidence. I like you too.”

We giggled. 

**_“So touching._ ** ”

_ “Don’t be jealous, my dear. Keep up that broom cupboard talk and he might one day be your future brother-in-law.” _

Tom’s scoff of scorn and disbelief was so loud I actually worried if Harry could hear it. 

I was the first one back, and I did it without ever entering the lake.

_ A good thief never uses the obvious route.  _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

With that task completed, it was back to regular schoolwork. I heard through the gossip vane that my brother did end up taking Daphne out on Valentine’s Day to Hogsmeade. Neither had decided if they wanted to be more than friends, but they enjoyed each other’s company so the courting continued. Harry liked that Daphne told him bluntly what she wanted, no guesswork or extra anxiety of trying to read between the lines. Daphne liked how easy going Harry was, and apparently, my brother was funny. Go Harry.

Although Draco did unintentionally crash their “date.” Wasn’t sure how that worked but all three seemed happy so hurray for them. 

Workload mounted ever higher in the days before the Easter holidays. The upper year students looked particularly fretful as they struggled with their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s 

Tom’s magic, which was once a winter night to me, had considerably warmed up since returning to my body after the Yule Ball. He was certainly cold, but it felt more like a winter day than a winter night. 

He was even nice enough to admit where his favorite tea shop was in Hogsmeade and I got to visit it by myself on Valentine’s Day. Er, well, not technically by myself since Tom was in my head, but it was still a lovely experience. 

Tom had returned to the drawing board on perfecting his homunculus body. I offered my assistance, but he said until I understood more advanced math I wouldn’t be able to help him.

Which, uh, oof.

I already had a lot on my plate. My standard workload of classes/homework; added on top of continuing to work a single potion that combined all the other werewolf potions; and setting up for more rumors/scandals;  _ and _ continuing self-studies in rituals/wards;  _ and  _ keeping up with my exercises and shrinking social life… 

Honestly, it reminded me of my second year as a med student. I barely had room to breathe—although my babeh snakes seemed to have a knack for sensing when I needed a break because sometimes one of them would drag me out of my room to gossip or play cards.

The only consistent relaxing point in my day was at the end when I either read a book with Tom, or taught him the piano. 

Returning to the point on hand, I honestly didn’t think I could handle tackling such advanced math. At least, not while at Hogwarts. It might not be out of the question to ask Sirius or Remus to hire a tutor for me over the summer. Remus knew a fair bit of math, but the stuff Tom said I needed to know would be too advanced for my dear uncle. And there was a good chance he’d suddenly become too busy to tutor me over the summer if the Order was started back up. 

It’d ultimately depend on if Voldemort was resurrected (which I was betting he was because Power of Plot), and if they would consider it safe enough to hire a tutor for me.

I hoped so. Tom said ritual constructing required understanding: Eigenfunctions, Sturm-Liouville, and Fourier Transformations in addition to the basic math needed for alchemic equations. 

Per the alchemy textbook, I had  _ that  _ part covered; alchemy used linear algebra, functional analysis, and parts of differential equations. Linear Algebra was ingrained into me from my past life, whereas functional analysis and parts of differential equations Remus taught Harry and me over the years. 

Remus believed that arithmancy should have been taught from the first year at Hogwarts as it allowed a different way of thinking. Remus fancied himself a mathematician on good days, and wanted to pass that on to us. It wasn’t anything that wouldn’t be taught at a middle school or high school level, so nothing worth bragging about. 

Eigenfunctions and the Sturm-Liouville were advanced types of differential equations that snuck into quantum physics. Fourier Transformations was a type of harmonic analysis that I honestly had never even heard about until Tom told me I needed to master it before I started crafting rituals of my own. 

It was difficult to see the direct correlations between math and ritual work, but Tom said that once I had an equation there was a formula to translate it into Ancient Runes which could then be translated into a ritual outline. 

Very convoluted. Because of all the extra steps from the math to the ritual, some things were lost in translations which made it extra annoying to figure out what went wrong when it inevitably did.

Ugh.

I didn’t want to learn more math.

_ But I want my worgen army… _

Uuuuuggggghh.

Bitching and moaning aside, I was absurdly busy. Time pranced by us until we had finally reached the start of the summer term and Professor McGonagall told me to head to the Quidditch field at nine o’clock at night for Bagman to tell me about the third task. 

With a tired sigh, I did as instructed. 

“Hello there!” called a cheery voice.

“Hello,” came my automated polite response.

Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur.

“Well, what d’you think?” said Bagman happily, gesturing wildly to the rapidly growing hedges that overtook the Quidditch field. “Growing nicely, aren’t they? Give them a month and Hagrid’ll have them twenty feet high. Don’t worry, you’ll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we’re making here?”

No one spoke for a moment. 

“Maze,” grunted Krum. 

“That’s right!” said Bagman. “A maze. The third task’s really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks.”

“We seemply ’ave to get through the maze?” said Fleur.

“There will be obstacles,” said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Hagrid is providing a number of creatures... then there will be spells that must be broken... all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champion who is leading on points will get a head start into the maze.” Bagman grinned at me. “Then Mr. Krum will enter... then Miss Delacour. But you’ll all be in with a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Very well... if you haven’t got any questions, we’ll go back up to the castle, shall we, it’s a bit chilly.”

_ “Oh so terribly chilly. If only I had a handsome Slytherin boy to warm me up.” _

**_“I know a few fire spells._ ** ”

_ “Only a few?” _

**_“That’d I’d be willing to teach at least._ ** ”

_ “Ooo, I feel special. Two years ago you weren’t even willing to show me how to mend a broken bone and now you’ll enable my love of fire by teaching me fire spells?” _

**_“What are friends for?_ ** ”

A surge of warm affection for Tom rose inside me. I couldn’t hold back my smile, nor could I resist sharing how fond I was for my friend. It was such a delight to converse with him, the banter came easily. I wondered if it was because we had good chemistry, or Tom was that fantastic of a silver-tongue. I hadn’t seen him directly interact with anyone else since he had possessed me. He hadn’t expressed much of a desire to control my body, seemingly content with staying in my mind palace until he had perfected his own body. 

Even in the beginning, he hadn’t made much of an attempt to assume control. Perhaps he realized he couldn’t due to my mind palace, or maybe he was overly cautious. 

Or maybe he had and I hadn’t noticed because he failed. Hoped it was the former two. 

If he had (and I knew about it), I would have been forced to remove him by any means necessary then destroy the diary. The Tom inside the diary was as close to an “innocent” Tom I could judge, and if that boy was as dangerous and unstable as his present counterpart then there was simply no hope for him. Once school was out, I would have destroyed the diadem and ring, and gave the leftover remnants to Dumbledore. I wasn’t sure if the cup was already in Lestrange’s vault, or if it was placed there  _ after  _ she had broken out of Azkaban. To be on the safe side, I would have waited for the latter before raiding the vault. 

Now though?

_ Now… though… _

The thought trailed off as a new idea popped in my head. 

_ “Hey Tom?” _

**_“Mn?_ ** ”

_ “If Paddy and Remus can’t find a tutor for me over the summer, do you think you could?” _

**_“For the math to learn ritual-crafting?”_ **

_ “Yeah.” _

Tom’s magic fluctuated in a pleasing sort of way. He was clearly satisfied I had asked him, even conveying such in his tone.  **_“I would be delighted to tutor you._ ** ”

_ “Thanks!” _

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

**Extra:**

I laid on the bed, having awoken far earlier than what I would have liked and been unable to sleep. 

Thankfully, I had Tom Riddle to keep me company since he never slept. 

_ “Want to play the word game?” _

**_“Sure,_ ** ” responded Tom, bemused.  **_“I won’t let you win.”_ **

_ “Oh we’ll see about that, mister. I’ll start: Water.” _

**_“Relax.”_ **

_ “Xenic.” _

**_“Chatterbox.”_ **

_ “Xylocarp.” _

**_“Parallax.”_ **

_ “Xanthate.”  _

**_“Executrix.”_ **

_ “Xenopus.” _

**_“Smallpox.”_ **

_ “Xanthophyll.” _

**_“Lockbox.”_ **

_ “Xylophonist.”  _

**_“Transfix.”_ **

_ “Xanthoma.”  _

His magic stilled. He paused for a moment before he said,  **_“Academic.”_ **

_ Phew. Was running out of x words.  _

_ “Cloverleaf.”  _

**_“Fellatrix.”_ **

I choked on my own spit in surprise as my face heated up.  _ “YOU KNOW THAT WORD?!” _

**_“I win.”_ **

My face turned red, I rolled over and buried my head into my pillow to keep from squealing.  _ “Wh—how—but—I thought you were a prude, or at least vanilla!” _

**_“Preference for human decency does not equate to being ignorant. I had to come up with_ ** **something** **_to throw you off. Why do you know an absurd amount of words that start with x?”_ **

_ “I memorized a lot of words that start with x for the express purpose of defeating sneaky little stinker butts like yourself who bully the opponent with it!” _

**_“Then you have only yourself to blame. ”_ **

_ “Gosh what a low blow!” _

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t already know what it is, save your innocence and don’t google it. It’s not  _ that  _ interesting, Tom just caught her off guard. 
> 
> **Answer:** Hermione x anyone who treats her with respect & Harry x anyone who treats him with kindness and saves him from the Dursleys & Draco x wholesomeness. 
> 
> **Question:** Favorite game (not a video game)?
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


	35. Year 4 - 9

**Trigger warnings, if you’re sensitive or in a bad mind state already:** **proceed with caution.**

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

It came too suddenly.

I knew what had to be done, really, I understood it. 

Power of Plot had proven too strong for me to overcome on my own. Lily and James still died, Quirrel still got possessed, the diary was still given to Ginny, someone broke out of Azkaban, the tournament still happened… and now… 

Now Voldemort was going to be resurrected. I acknowledged it’d be futile to stop such events. If the Dark Lord had to return, I wanted it to be on my terms—or at least as much as I could make them my terms. I wanted to use the situation to my advantage so in the end I would come out the victor, and he the loser. 

Above all, I could not sit by and allow my dear little Harry to go through such events when I was willing to fall on that grenade.

Mentally, and physically I was prepared as I could be. 

Emotionally I had to admit I was lacking. No matter what words I said, or reasoning I provided, there was a deeply ingrained fear inside my heart. Echoes of that horrible night would never leave me. The nightmares, I feared, would persist for all of my life. In the worst of it, I would only see those red eyes and hear that high-pitched cold laughter.

Voldemort scared me.

He was a monster, a powerful force that I had to fight. 

Yet fight it, I would. 

Because I was so anxious and dreadful of that terrible task, time flew by quicker than what I would have liked. All too soon it was the evening of the task. I was able to eat a bland breakfast, but nerves prevented me from eating lunch or dinner. It was nice that they allowed Sirius, Remus, and the Weasley’s—per Sirius’s insistence—to visit me before the task, but it did nothing to soothe the jumbled nerves I felt.

With a dry throat, a wobbly stomach, and a resigned heart, I set out to the maze.

The Third Task.

Nervously, I brushed down the hem of my skirt. My fingers ran over my emergency port-key. I bought it years ago to use in case a heist went wrong. It would definitely disqualify me to use it, but if Voldemort was too dangerous to face or if he even uttered  _ Ava _ I was friggin’ using it.

I  _ highly doubted  _ Voldemort would kill me out right. The megalomaniac would want a long drawn-out monologue of bragging to his followers. He’d want to intimidate me to the fullest extent of his capabilities. He’d—

There was a flash of another memory, one that hurt so much to think about it left me breathless.

He’d do to me what he did to Lily.

**_“Nervous?”_ ** teased Tom, picking up on my anxiety.  **_“How unlike you._ ** ”

_ “I’m only human. I have no idea what we’ll be facing inside the maze.” _

**_“You’ll be fine.”_ **

_ “I hope so.” _

Tom’s magic softly brushed against my own and I wished I had a warm hand to hold. 

My eyes screwed shut as I listened to the students enter the stadiums at the front of the maze. They were loud, boisterous and ignorant of what was to come. I found myself envious of their innocence for a moment, and then I slapped my cheeks to shake off that nonsense.

Wishing was useless. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! In first place, with ninety-two points Miss Rosaline Potter, of Hogwarts School!” The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. “In second place, with eighty points—Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” More applause. “And in third place—Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!”

“So... on my whistle, Rosaline!” said Bagman. “Three—two—one —”

He blew the whistle, I dove into the maze. 

The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment I entered the maze.

With my wand out, I muttered, “ _ Lumos _ .”

And so began my journey through the maze. 

Honestly after being a thief and sneaking around shit for so long I had an innate instinct to avoid the worst of it. There was only one obstacle I couldn't get around. 

It was a sphinx. It had the body of an over-large lion: great clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon me as I approached. She was not crouching as if to spring, but pacing from side to side of the path, blocking my progress. Then she spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice.

“You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me.”

“Oh kind and beautiful sphinx, won’t you let me pass?”

“No,” she said, continuing to pace. “Not unless you can answer three of my riddles. Answer on your first guess for each—I let you pass. Answer wrongly—I attack. Remain silent—I will let you walk away from me unscathed.”

I held my wand aloft. “Okay. May I please hear your first riddle?”

The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited:

_ “First think of the person who lives in disguise,  _

_ Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.  _

_ Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend,  _

_ The middle of middle and end of the end?  _

_ And finally give me the sound often heard  _

_ During the search for a hard-to-find word.  _

_ Now string them together, and answer me this,  _

_ Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?” _

“Person who lives in disguise. A fake, a clown, a mask,” I trailed off, “masquerade? Spy? Mn. But deals in secrets and lies,  _ ehhh  _ that’d be a spy.” My brow furrowed in concentration as I thought. “Sound often heard… I’m sorry, could you repeat after that?”

The sphinx smiled as she did that. 

“I heard  _ er  _ the most. String together… Spy-er. Spif—Spider?” 

“That is one,” agreed the sphinx. 

Relieved, I asked, “May I hear your second riddle?”

_ “Echoes from a shadow realm, _

_ Whispers of things yet to come, _

_ Thought’s strange sister dwells in night, _

_ Is swept away by dawning light. _

_ Of what do I speak?” _

**_“Dream._ ** _ ” _

_ “HEY!” _

**_“Sorry, it slipped out._ **

“Dream,” I answered, frowning because Tom beat me to it. 

The sphinx nodded. 

I let out a long sigh. “Okay. One more! May I please hear your final riddle?”

_ “What costs nothing but is worth everything, _

_ Weighs nothing but lasts a lifetime, _

_ That one person cannot own but two can share?” _

_ Worth everything—? _

The word tumbled out, “Love.”

The sphinx beamed at me. She got up, stretched her front legs, and moved aside to allow me to pass.

Onto the path I went, goosebumps crawling down my arms. 

_ “Oh no, _ ” I complained to Tom as a giant, hairy, spider descended from above me to block the path.  _ “So much ew. _ ”

Unfortunately for that spider I knew a  _ lot  _ of offensive sills. My wandless, silent, Accio ripped apart its legs and a Bombarda made its head explode into a gooey mess.

My nose wrinkled in disdain. “Ugh, bloody disgusting things.” 

Side-stepping the corpse of the monster, I headed on down the path. At the end was the Triwizard Cup. A flutter of butterflies danced in my stomach, the nerves making me hesitate. I double-checked my emergency portkey in my pocket, sighing with relief it was still there.

_ Here goes everything,  _ I thought, grasping at it.

There was a tug behind my navel and my world warped as I was whisked away.

**(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~***

I landed gracelessly on some grass. Letting out a shaky breath, I looked around to assess my surroundings. 

**_“Part two of the maze?”_ ** inquired Tom, intrigued by the abrupt transition.  **_“Or was the cup a trick?_ ** ”

“ _ I don’t think this was meant to be part of the tournament, Tom.” _

Tom did not answer right away as I looked around the dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above me to my left. I could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

**_“Wait—that—that can’t be—”_ **

Whatever Tom was about to say was abruptly cut off. I heard the crunch of grass behind me, felt a lurch of fear, and whirled around to face what was to come. 

Things did not go as expected.

“ _ Crucio _ .” 

Pain.

What a small word for something so impactful. The Cruciatus Curse was beyond description aside from that one word. It was not hot, it was not cold, it was not sharp, nor dull—nothing could be used to describe it aside from pain. Agonizing, debilitating, unforgettable pain.

The kind of pain that the mind literally cannot comprehend. The kind of pain that once it’s over the mind refuses to think about it anymore other than  _ yeah that hurt. _

I had thought that being reborn was going to be the most excruciating experience in any of my lives. I thought having repeated aneurysms for months as my magic repaired the damage was going to be the epitome of pain I could experience.

I was wrong.

The Cruciatus Curse was worse by such a significant amount I was honestly surprised. 

Pain.

That was it. Pain from the top of my scalp to the tip of my toes, only  _ pain _ .

In reality, it was a second, maybe two.

It felt like minutes. I could not breathe, I could not catch my breath long enough to let out a scream. I could only drop to the ground like a sack of stones tossed into a dark lake, as silent tears unwillingly seeped from my eyes. 

Pain. 

It exploded into my mind palace, shattering nearly every barrier I had set up. I had not prepared, not anticipated, not expected such a world-shattering horrendous experience. Never in my wildest nightmares could I have imagined how excruciatingly arduous the Cruciatus Curse was. I could not gather thoughts, let alone respond to Tom’s fervent cry of dismay as I fell to the cold, wet, grassy floor.

Then it was gone.

**_“ROSIE! ROSIE! Are you—Are you—”_ **

He was flustered, bewildered by the unexpected assault. His magic spread around me, and I could catch echoes of his alarm with each haggard breath I took. 

I knew the Cup would transport me to the graveyard. I wanted Voldemort’s resurrection for the explicit purpose of using him as bait to draw out those who would have otherwise slipped under my radar. Anyone who  _ would  _ side with him, I wanted to eliminate from the political sphere. 

I had anticipated some terror, but I had not considered the fact that I would be assaulted with the Cruciatus right off the bat. Voldemort ought to have been too weak to do such a Curse straight away. I also thought he would want me alive and coherent to torment and terrorize me during his resurrection. Using Cruciatus could addle my mind too much for me to be properly scared of him. 

The plan was to allow myself to be captured, witness his resurrection—and ideally see who came to his side to confirm my targets—then use the emergency Portkey in my pocket to immediately leave. 

My fingers twitched as I moved to my pocket.

If the Dark Lord was strong enough to do that much already, I needed escape and reassess. It would be foolish to stay any longer.

My fingers grazed against the portkey.

Nothing happened.

Tom, who had known about my emergency portkey prior, was shocked. His magic jumbled and tumbled as I caught the whispers of fear from him.

Death did not scare me, but I was afraid to leave my loved ones alone. After the Yule Ball, I had set things up so if I had died Kreacher would hire someone else using my funds to help Tom get a body. I would hate for my friend to be stuck in limbo, isolated for who knew how much longer. I had also set it up so if I died prematurely Professor Dumbledore and Harry would receive a letter detailing “dreams” I had experienced since I was young. I had prepared that little measure when I was eight or nine. 

But—

The thought of seeing my little Harry clutching Iris at my funeral—

His eyes would have been bloodshot and puffy. He would have been pale, flushed, and lanky, unable to eat or sleep. 

Would he have been more angry or afraid?

Sirius would have fallen into grief again. He was still mourning James and Lily, if I died too soon would that break him?

Remus was strong, yet terribly fragile at the same time. He would put on a face for Sirius and Harry, but he’d stop taking care of himself in the process. Who would pick  _ him  _ up?

And Tom—

Tom’s magic was a mess, a chaotic concert of things the boy was too emotionally immature to know how to handle. Fear for me, concern for himself, rage at the attacker, confusion that the portkey didn’t work, and everything in between. 

_ “Change of plans, my dear.” _

**_“Rosie…”_ **

I made a move to stand up but—

“ _ Crucio _ .”

The breath left me as I fell back down from the tidal wave of pain that pressed upon me. 

Three seconds in reality, thirty minutes in my mind.

Perhaps that was the power of magic, or perhaps that level of pain transcended the mind’s capability to comprehend time.

The end result was me laying on the ground, my body shuddering involuntarily from the echoes of the muscle spasms. I was loose, my fingers unable to clench into a fist tight enough to pick up a blade of grass, let alone use my wand. 

My eyes drifted up and I saw a harrowed man, beady eyes glaring hatefully at me. I did not recognize the man right away, but I did notice the dark bundle he carried in his arms.

“Wormtail,” came a high pitched voice, “that’s enough.”

_ Wormtail? _

The pain had left my mind in a hazy state, things were fractured and splintered. Words were difficult to form in the foggy mess my mind had melded into.

“Yes, my lord,” simpered the beady-eyed man as he used his wand to levitate me into the air. 

_ Peter… Pettigrew? _

Due to the damage done to my mind, my mind palace was in shambles. The memories that came to me were immediately shared with Tom. I recalled a picture of the man in question as he became listed as a Wanted Terrorist. 

**_“It looks like him but he’s…”_ ** Tom struggled to find the right word. “ **_Wasted away. What happened to him?”_ **

_ “I don’t know… I don’t know…” _

Peter Pettigrew had deteriorated to a husk of man. Wherever he had been spending the past decade, it had not been the life of a well-fed, pampered, pet. His sunken eyes bored into my own, glittering with plain loathing and dark disgust. He levitated me in the dark, placing me in the arms of a cold, stone statue. The statue came to life by magic, grabbing me and holding me still. My wand laid at the ground at my feet, untouched. 

I had not anticipated Peter to be at Voldemort’s side. Rookwood had escaped Azkaban, after all. Where was he? Why was Peter here instead? 

Peter set down the dark bundle and a large snake slithered around it. The traitor then pushed a stone cauldron in front of the statue that held me. It was full of some type of liquid.

There was something in the bundle Peter had placed on the ground. It stirred persistently, as if trying to free itself. Peter busied himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. wand. Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness. The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Peter tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated.

I listened to the high, cold voice hiss out, “Hurry!”

The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.

“It is ready, Master.”

“Now,” ordered the cold voice.

Peter pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and I cringed at the sight. I had thought those Blasted-End Skrewts were gross, but the wrinkly flesh of baby Voldemort was  _ so  _ much worse. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face—no child alive ever had a face like that—flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

_ Those eyes… _

**_“What—what is that thing?_ ** _ ”  _ Tom asked, his tone betraying a hint of nausea.  **_“If that’s another one of Lord Voldemort’s followers then I truly pity the Dark Lord.”_ **

Being held hostage by the concrete angel, and seeing those eyes made me remember that night. That horrible, horrible night. 

_ “Mom….” _

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Peter’s neck, and Peter lifted it. Peter lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; I listened to its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

Peter began to speak. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits but there was a gleam of bitter hatred in his eyes that pushed him on. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”

**_“Wait—”_ **

The surface below the angel that held me cracked. A fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Peter’s command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

Peter whimpered once, but another glance at my direction hardened his malice. “Flesh of the servant willingly given you will revive your master.”

His scream pierced the night. I watched as he sliced his arm off and it fell into the cauldron with a splash. 

Despite the pain Peter was in, he hurried over to stand before me. 

“B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe.”

The shining silver dagger in Peter’s hand shook as he dug it  _ through my right hand _ . There was an involuntary gasp of pain. I fought against the reflex to immediately break free. 

Peter had just severely injured my wand hand, and my emergency port-key no longer worked. Things had deviated enough from canon that I did not have much faith in the Cup transporting me back. I needed time to reassess.

But if I waited too long…

I didn’t have much of a choice. My body still trembled from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. I didn’t think I’d be able to cast any wandless spells with how frazzled my state of mind was. I needed to calm down. 

Patience. I needed patience. Look for the opportunity. Regain control.  _ Patience.  _

He staggered back to the cauldron with my blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned a blinding white. Peter, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened... 

And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of me.

But then, through the mist, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

“Robe me,” said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Peter, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master’s head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at me.

It wore the face of a monster. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake’s with slits for nostrils.

“Lord Voldemort,” I whispered. 

**_“WHO?!_** **_WHAT?!_** ”

Voldemort sneered at me, looking away and examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cat’s, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant.

Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Peter, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the angel where I was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon me again, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.

That laughter, coupled with those eyes—

I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear the screams again. 

“My Lord… ” he choked, “my Lord... you promised... you did promise . . .”

“Hold out your arm,” said Voldemort lazily.

“Oh Master... thank you, Master… ” 

He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.

“The other arm, Wormtail.”

“Master, please... please… ” 

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Peter’s left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past his elbow, revealing the Dark Mark tattoo. 

Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Peter’s uncontrollable weeping.

“It is back,” he said softly, “they will all have noticed it and now, we shall see... now we shall know… ” 

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Peter’s arm. Upon contact, it rapidly darkened. 

A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.

“How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?” he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. “And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?”

He began to pace up and down before me and Peter, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at me again, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face.

“Ah, yes.  _ You _ .”

_ Me.  _

Voldemort held out a wand. “Silent, weren’t you? Will you  _ stay  _ silent when  _ I _ use it?”

_ Use— _

“ _ Crucio _ .”

My body convulsed from the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain—

Two seconds. A taste, a sip, a little dip into that bucket of agony, and already I was reaching my limit. Tom’s magic jumped in fear around me, concern and anxiety echoing between us. He was clearly disturbed by what he was witnessing, yet more than that he  _ hated  _ how he couldn’t do anything about the situation. 

His voice had a pleading tilt, reminiscent of a terrified child who was about to witness Daddy shooting the dog, “ **_Let me talk to him, Rosie. I can reason with him.”_ **

_ “That thing c-cannot be re-reasoned with, Tom,”  _ I returned, a tad harsher than I wanted to. 

**_“Rosie, I know it looks bad but—”_ **

_ “But wh-what?”  _ It was hard to form the words. It was hard to find them. _ “You th-think that-t because yo-you share a s-soul that you are the s-same? That it will spare yo-you? It will o-only view you as a threat-t. _

**_You—You know? For how long—_ **

“Can’t breathe during it?” mused Voldemort. “Let’s test it one more time, shall we?  _ Crucio _ .”

Five seconds.

Five seconds in reality.

I couldn’t stop shaking, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t—I couldn’t— _ I can’t—I can’t—I can’t—Ican’tIcan’tI can’tIcan’tIcan’t— _

He was laughing, Voldemort, that high-pitched delighted squeal of laughter. Those eyes and that laughter threw me back in time. Broken and helpless, I could only watch the memory come back to life in my shattered mind.

Behind my eyes, Tom watched as I remembered Lord Voldemort murdering my mother. That high-pitched squealing laughter of delight as he mocked her, taunted her, and tortured her as Peter had done to me.

Lily Potter was not granted a clean death. No.

He made her scream in agony as he assured her that he would let  _ her _ live. 

Despite how she quivered in pain, when Lord Voldemort began to cast the Killing Curse, she somehow scrounged up the energy to literally throw herself in the way. 

One final act of sacrifice; the desperate determination of a mother who did not want to outlive her children.

It was her face that would stay with me until the end.

She died in pain, never knowing if she had saved her children.

Tears slipped from my eyes as I stared back into the maddened red gaze of her murderer. Grief, and shame, curdled in the pit of my stomach. No noise dared to escape my lips as I silently wept in the arms of that concrete angel. 

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry… I tried… I—I’m so… I… _

Voldemort looked away from me, elated. “Oh! Look who returns.” 

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward... slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.

“Master... Master… ” he murmured.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people. Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind, a rustling seemed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered.

“Welcome, Death Eaters,” said Voldemort quietly. “Thirteen years... thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday.... We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?”

He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.

“I smell guilt,” he said. “There is a stench of guilt upon the air.”

A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare, to step “I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact—such prompt appearances!—and I ask myself... why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?”

No one spoke.

“And I answer myself,” whispered Voldemort, “they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment... 

“And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?

“And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort... perhaps they now pay allegiance to another... perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?”

At the mention of Dumbledore’s name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them.

“It is a disappointment to me... I confess myself disappointed... ”

One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort’s feet.

“Master!” he shrieked, “Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!”

Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand. “ _ Crucio _ !”

The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked a terrible sound.

Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping.

“Get up, Avery,” said Voldemort softly. “Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years... I want thirteen years’ repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?”

He looked down at Peter, who continued to sob.

“Rookwood brought you to me. You stayed with me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” moaned Peter, “please, Master... please… ” 

“Yet you helped return me to my body,” said Voldemort coolly, watching Peter sob on the ground. “Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me... and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers... ”

Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand’s wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Peter’s bleeding wrist.

Peter’s sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into powder.

“My Lord,” he whispered. “Master... it is beautiful... thank you... thank you... ”

He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort’s robes.

“May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail,” said Voldemort.

“No, my Lord... never, my Lord… ” 

Peter stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears. Voldemort now approached the man on Peter’s right.

“Lucius, my slippery friend,” he whispered, halting before him. “I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius.... Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay... but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?”

“My Lord, I was constantly on the alert,” came Lucius Malfoy’s voice swiftly from beneath the hood. “Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me —”

“And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?” said Voldemort lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. “Yes, I know all about that, Lucius.... You have disappointed me.... I expect more faithful service in the future.”

“Of course, my Lord, of course.... You are merciful, thank you... ”

Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space—large enough for two people—that separated Malfoy and the next man.

“The Lestranges should stand here,” said Voldemort quietly. “But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me.... When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us... they are our natural allies... we will recall the banished giants... I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear... ”

He walked on. Some Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them.

“Macnair... destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide... ”

“Thank you, Master... thank you,” murmured Macnair.

“And here”—Voldemort moved on to the two largest hooded figures—“we have Crabbe... you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?”

They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.

“Yes, Master.” 

“We will, Master.”

“The same goes for you, Nott,” said Voldemort quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyle’s shadow.

“My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful—”

“That will do,” said Voldemort.

He had reached the largest gap of all, and he stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there.

“And here we have seven missing Death Eaters... three dead in my service. One has already set out on a mission for me. One, too cowardly to return... he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever... he will be killed, of course... and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service.”

_ One sent on a mission? Could that be Rookwood? What mission? _

The Death Eaters stirred, and I saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks.

“He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young harlot arrived here tonight... 

“Yes,” said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in my direction. “Rosaline Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call her my guest of honor.”

There was a silence. Then the Death Eater to the right of Peter stepped forward, and Lucius Malfoy’s voice spoke from under the mask.

“Master, we crave to know... we beg you to tell us... how you have achieved this... this miracle... how you managed to return to us... ”

“Ah, what a story it is, Lucius,” said Voldemort. “And it begins—and ends—with my young friend here. Oh? Still silent?”

_ Is he wanting me to scream in pain? To beg?  _

I coolly stared back at him. The tears had dried halfway through his speech. Thankfully I had plenty of time to recompose myself during his theatrics. 

“She thinks her little  _ mind  _ is strong enough to withstand  _ me _ ?” he laughed, delightfully high pitched as he shot me with another Cruciatus, the Dark Lord relished in the way he said, “ _ Crucio! _ ” 

For an insane monster, he was meticulous in making sure the Curse only lasted a few seconds. Not enough to break my mind like the Longbottom’s, but enough to skirt the edge. With each touch of the Curse, I felt a piece of me break. 

Color faded from the world around me, a detached sort of misery floated on the depths of my mind. Images of another life briefly flashed before me; one of ash and apathy. Thoughts were harder to form, my senses barely tangible enough for me to process. 

**“Rosie, stay with me. Focus, stay focused. Rosie, Rosie,** **_Rosie—”_ **

Was it because I was a girl? He wanted to duel Harry. He saw Harry as an equal, but not me?

Lord Voldemort did not view me as enough of a threat to immediately kill, but evidently, I had irritated him far more than canonical Harry for him to go out of his way to torment me. It might have been a sexism thing—his words relied heavily on it—but it could have also been because of an action I had done.

I was someone who had assumed control of Slytherin—something he had done in the past. I knew there were plenty of rumors about me being arrogant—which was true, I would deny that vice—and many more about what I had accomplished. Did he view me as enough of a stain on his precious Slytherin legacy that in his deranged mind I warranted his rage?

Or did I look too much like Lily, the witch who thwarted him?

I raised a chin up and continued to stare coolly back at him, refusing to respond.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Such a terribly rude thing aren’t you? You think you can ignore me?  _ Me? _ ” 

“Does the sun answer to the whines of beasts?” I rasped out.

His lips curled back in a silent snarl. “Whores should bow to their superiors.  _ Crucio _ .” 

My breath was stolen away from me as that painpainpainpainpainpain—

It went on like that. Voldemort would begin to recite his tale of how he regained his body, but every so often he would pause to grant me a couple more seconds under Cruciatus. He always seemed to know how to give me  _ just  _ enough time to regather my thoughts and regain my sanity before he cast it once more all the while insisting I was nothing but a dirty whore. 

Every time that spell landed on me, Tom’s magic violently lurched. His confusion had abated, he was nothing but dark rage and fear. Fear for me, or himself, I did not know… 

I was strong. I was strong, or so I had thought, but each Crucio wore me down. I was in a haze of pain, my thoughts only barely coherent. 

_ “I…” _

**_“Rosie… Rosie, stay with me. You said you were my friend, aren’t you?”_ **

_ “Yes…” _

**_“Rosie… Rosie… you are the cleverest witch I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You are strong, intelligent, and charming. Because you are so brilliant you know you have your limits. You can’t do this on your own—you don’t need to.”_ **

_ “What…. are yo… you saying…. Tom?” _

**_“I am your friend. Let me help you.”_ **

_ “What…” _

**_“Let go, Rosie. You trust me, don’t you?”_ **

_ “I do… Tom… The Cup… it might... ” _

**_“Shh. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it, Rosie. Go to sleep._ ** ”

My eyes drifted shut and I surrendered myself entirely to his chilling magic. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle took complete control over my body as my mind sunk into the depths of oblivion. 

**ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Rookwood is the one on the mission. Only he can do it which is why Peter was there instead. And the whole Peter thing will be addressed later in the story. Same for the prepared portkey not working. 
> 
> Canonically, Voldemort saw a lot of himself in Harry and (unintentionally?) treated him closer to an equal. Rosie is not an orphaned boy, and that kind of comparison would be harder to make. She was also not meant to be the “Prophesied One,” yet she is credited equally for his defeat which infuriates him. And yeah, I feel like a deranged Voldemort would lean towards sexism. 
> 
> **Answer:** Bullshit
> 
> **Question:** Which generation from the Potterverse would you like to go to school with?
> 
> Reviews are  **love** ! 


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